The Last Option
by Delillium
Summary: Wade Wilson finds himself with one last option. After fifteen months, Wade finally accepts Fury's offer to team up with the Avengers and help bring Bruce back, but with one stipulation : That after, Dr. Banner will help diagnose his slowly worsening condition. Tony's relentless suspicion, however, may end up exploiting the secret contract. ( Deadpool / Avengers team up.)
1. First Day

_IMPORTANT A/N:_

 _Small Disclaimer for Raging Deadpool Fans: From one huge Deadpool fan to another, I know (some of you) will be angry when you realize that Deadpool's origin story here in my story does not follow EXACTLY as the comics portrayed it. I love Deadpool's origin story (the original one), but I just wanted to try something different. I'm sorry if you don't like it...? There's going to be just a few **minor** changes that WILL be explained. And you'll understand why I changed it. (It's just for the story's sake.)_

 _ALSO:...Those of you not familiar with Deadpool, you can still read! Just realize the background/origin story I give deadpool here is not the original (or canon) story. You can follow along just as easily as avid Deadpool readers/fans can, I promise._

* * *

First Day

* * *

1

* * *

His fingernails studiously picked at the cloth on the chair as if maybe there'd be a key beneath the fabric that would aid him in some kind of escape. His foot was shaking on his opposite knee, staring at the door to the left down the hall. At any given moment, he was going to be the escort to the single man Fury had been trying to capture for upwards of fifteen months, possibly longer.

He'd only heard pieces of conversation in passing, but the first time he'd heard his name was about fifteen months ago. If the search had gone on before then, he was't sure but it was certainly a possibility he'd toyed with in the forty-five minutes he'd been sitting in the overstuffed black chair.

He brushed his hands against his stubble: he didn't have time to shave that morning when he got the message to meet Fury down at some small office building downtown. It's sign said "Eco-Tech" but he was beginning to be under the impression that it was a front. He wouldn't ask, that would be both undeniably stupid ( he'd never get a straight answer anyway) and it would just make his newness all that more obvious.

This was another question he had, though he didn't keep it to himself. He'd asked Fury why, with his little experience, did he want him? If they'd been trying to just pinpoint this guy's _location_ alone for upwards of fifteen months, why wouldn't he have every senior agent he could _get_ to escort this maniac?

His alone response was: don't ever question my judgment again Agent Gale.

So here he was now, picking pieces of cloth away from this office chair, looking down the hall at the door where this infamous _Wilson_ would be and he'd need to escort him to Avengers Tower. Fury said he'd be tagging along for the ride, but it did little to subside his anxiety.

He knew that this was the kind of work his job would entail, but he thought they'd gradually sink him into the job, like a new fish into a big cold bowl of water. Start off with something a little easier, like paper work. Or surveillance.

The door opened and the light burst into the room in blinding rays. His body was sent into immediate high alert.

He blinked away the sun and as the door closed behind the black silhouettes, he could finally make out the two men standing before the door. There was fury, one hand on his hip, fingers brushing his gun, the other pointing towards Agent Gale.

"Let's keep moving along, Wilson. If we're even a minute late, you better bet your ass Stark'll use it as his ticket out of the meeting."

"Sorry. I was just appreciating the architecture."

"It's called cheap and fast."

"Sounds like my entertainment last night."

Agent Gale stood from his seat quickly, his mouth open, about to ask why in the world _'Wilson'_ wasn't in some hand cuffs? Or, at the very _fucking_ least, why weren't his weapons confiscated? But then he thought better of it when he watched, with shock, as the man who Fury had been trying to catch for _fifteen months_ walked along on his command right _behind. Dawdling_ behind Fury, without a care in the world. The door he'd just walked through was easy enough to bolt through. He could've just turned around, flew through the door, and in a streak, been long long gone. But he didn't even hesitate. He just kept walking, examining photos as he went.

"Agent Gale: car. Now."

He rushed forward, going out the backdoor of the office and into the small garage in the back which held a black SHIELD standard Escalade. He jumped into the drivers seat and started up the car, waiting patiently as Wilson got into the back.

"Hey, Mr. Driver: what's your name again?"

Gale was beginning to wonder why Fury ever needed him in the first place? This appeared to be a piece of cake, but then he remembered his training, recalling his mentor's warnings about _'this kind'_. The king that pretended to be so easy going, laid back, ready to do as you command, then BAM, they were slicing you open like Thanksgiving's turkey.

He felt a nervous sweat break out across his forehead as he pushed the garage opener.

"Uh...Agent Gale."

"Your first name's Agent?"

Gale gave a smile as he backed out of the garage and into the busy streets of New York City.

"Oh, well...No. No, my first name's Adam."

" _Now_ we're off to a start. Adam? Can I call you Adam? Adam, ...I go by many things. But on _very specific_ occasions. See, I go by Wade when it's a friend: which is you, Adam. You're a friend. And I go by Wilson when it's a drill sergeant. Which is you, Director Fury, _sir_. And I go by Pussycat when Leah is over, or Enrique when Maria's over. But sometimes I go by Deadpool...when I wanna scare people." His voice got deep, "Like you Addy, I wanna scare you."

It went silent for only a half second, but Gale went cold, his entire body beginning to shiver as he clutched the steering wheel as hard as he could. He went over emergency situations in his head again and again, thinking through all the simulations he'd done in the Academy. He was just about to say something to establish his authority (as per page 544, section 3, paragraph 7) when Wade finally gave a chuckle.

"I'm just fucking with you, Adam. First day on the job?"

"Wilson, it'd do you some good to shut up for a little while." Fury said, looking dangerously over his shoulder.

"Sir, yes, sir!" With a salute, Wade sat back a little further in his seat and watched out the window intently.

Agent Gale looked into the rear view mirror, watching him quietly for a second. He decided fairly quickly that he looked like the star of some kind of horror war movie, fresh from the trenches of combat. He was dressed in a combat ensemble consisting of black combat boots with clanking buckles, straight charcoal cargo pants tucked loosely into his boots and a white t-shirt, only half tucked into his waist-band. Additionally, he had enough little compartments in the utility belt belted around his waist to carry at least three hundred dollars in change. What added the element of true fear though, was not the mystery of what might could be in those tiny compartments, but it was the weapons lined up on his legs, each being held in their individual holsters which in turn were bound tightly around his right leg. And the two gigantic swords on his back? Those did even less to assuage the new agent's building dread.

By appearance, Wilson was ready for anything, all while maintaining this movie-star quality smile that made you suspicious of his every move. He was good looking in a rugged sort of way. His short, dirty blonde hair had probably been cut no more than ten days ago, but it appeared that this was also the last day he'd shaved. So naturally, Gale's profiling skills led him to conclude he'd recently been on some sort of mission or hunt or...whatever it was this kind of person embarked on.

And naturally after some thought, he found his deduction was little...off. It seemed this mission had been long. Ten days at least. But then, why didn't he have a single scratch on him? His clothes were clean albeit wrinkled, but his hair, boots, and utility belt showed through the rough days he'd had. But not a scratch? Really?

In conclusion, all he got was that Wade Wilson, Deadpool, whatever his name was, was naturally a handsome sort of guy with to much mystery and too many quirks to be natural... _way_ too many quirks.

They were pushing through traffic at a speed he didn't normally achieve in these crowded streets, but his fingers were twitchy and his nerves were on edge, so he dodged and weaved like an experienced boxer in the ring with an amateur. Ping ponged from lane to lane.

The Avengers Tower was within his sights and so long as he could survive until then, he'd deem himself the luckiest man alive.

"Haven't been to New York in a while. That all yours, Sarge?" Wade asked from the back seat, pointing upwards towards the tower in the sky.

"It's the Avengers Tower. It's Stark's"

"But you own Stark."

"I'm not in the slave owning business, Wilson." Gale thought he must've forgotten to clean his ear this week: was that a chuckle in Fury's voice? It was a noise all too human to come from him.

"Well you gotta whip him, don't you? If not for Stark's sake, then for a little _'pless-your'_ outside of work."

"If you wanna keep that sharp tongue of your's, I'd stop there."

"Well, actually, if you cut my tongue out-..."

Fury whipped around to face him and Wade stopped there. He cleared his throat and nodded agreeably, "Ok, ok. How about some tunes?"

He leaned forward, turning on the radio, every moment his arm was close enough to touch, Gale felt electricity pumping through his skin. Ready to grab it should he try to pull a fast one on him. Choke him? Pull a gun out?

The radio turned onto a seventies station and this seemed to satisfy Wade just fine as he quickly retracted his arm and begun thudding his hand against his thigh to the beat of the music.

"Classic. This is a classic. _Hell_ with it, baby, 'cause you're fine and you're mine and you look so _divine_. _"_

As Agent Gale pulled into the garage of Avenger's tower, the car was suddenly taken over by darkness, the only light coming from the dim lights from above and the blue glow from the car's radio. The screen lit up, casting a glow onto the passengers. Gale looking into the rear view. More suspicious and mysterious than ever, there sat the man he now knew as, Wade Wilson, and Deadpool. A man they'd been looking for, for fifteen long months, with an arsenal attached to him and no cares in the world, singing "Come and get your love". Strangely this all brought him to a dull sort of ease.

And though he seemed perfectly harmless at this point, Gale remembered his mentor's words.

Agent Gale parked the car, jumping from his seat and opened the back door forcefully, prepared to abide by the strict SHIELD protocol and _'secure'_ Wilson. It was his first time out of a training simulation, and he was determined to show his skills to Director Fury, but where an approving nod should have been, a confused expression was. However, he continued.

As Wilson reluctantly emerged from the car with a bewildered expression on his face, he took him by the shoulder with one hand and with the other took his gun off safety.

"Easy, soldier."

Agent Gale looked to Fury who's expression became lighter, "That won't be necessary, Agent. Mr. Wilson's here on his own accord."

Gale released his grip from Wade's shoulder, swallowing back his embarrassment at the same time as he was trying to wrap his head around the situation he was being faced with. He looked from Fury to Wilson, unsure of who to apologize to first.

"Oh." He finally let his eyes rest on Fury, "Sorry, director." Then he looked to Wilson, "I apologize, Mr. Wilson."

"No problemo." Wade said with a smile and shrug, "Happens more than you'd think. But hey: it really is your first day, isn't it?"

"Alright, enough chit chat, ladies. Remember the meeting we need to be getting to, Wade?"

"That song reminded me of another song. And now _that_ song's stuck in my head. Strange, huh?" Wade murmured as he walked ahead, through the sliding bullet-proof thick glass doors, "Sitting here eating my heart out waiting...waiting for some lovin' to come..."

Fury started for the door behind him, watching with semi-amusement as Wade started performing a small dance complete with footwork and finger pointing down the hall.

"Director Fury, sir?"

Fury turned around to face a distressed Gale, face and hair damp, hands quivering against his gun. Nick simply gave an eyebrow raise in response.

"I don't understand. Did you really need me? I mean- I'm happy to help, but-"

"I didn't need you, no. But did _you_ need this? I saw your files, Agent Gale. You're accomplishments didn't go unnoticed, but that in the academy. This is the kind of experience you need. I'm assigning you to this case an active agent from this point on, Agent Gale. Be ready for a call at any time and make sure to read over Wilson's file. I've given you access to it. Be prepared. I see potential in you, Agent Gale. _Don't_ disappoint me."

Gale's mouth gaped and he had to swallow three times before he could respond.

"I-...Thank you, sir. _Thank you_."

By the time he'd said this, Fury had already started through the door, watching as Wade made imaginary guns with his fingers and sent them shooting around the hall, wiggling and shaking as he walked, twirling every few steps.

"Looking for some _hot stuff,_ baby, this evening...I need some _hot stuff,_ baby, tonight, I want some _hot stuff_ baby this evening, Gotta have some _hot stuff_ , gotta have some _hot stuff_ toniiiii- No. No, I hate Donna Summers. Back to Redbone I guess. Come and get your love! Come and get your looove!"

"This isn't karaoke night, Wilson. The least you can do is try and _act_ serious." Fury came up beside him and raised his eyebrows, "I didn't _promise_ you they'd accept your _'request'._ "

Wade shrugged, "If they say no, I'll just chill in your office, use your kick ass computers for a while, find the shit head I'm looking for and then BAM! I'm golden."

"Seems _pretty_ risky. But hey, if you fuck this up for yourself, I could care less. Don't fool yourself into thinking I'm gonna beg these guys to take you in." Fury chuckled a little to himself, slipping his ID card through the slot beside the set of metallic steel doors at the end of the hall, "So: I know good first impressions aren't exactly in your arsenal of incredible abilities, but how about you test yourself? See if you can't accomplish it?"

The doors slid open and it was at this point, Wade finally fell quiet. Silently walking behind him, two steps behind at all times. They got to an elevator eventually. Fury pressed the number 12 and Wade came in afterward, standing just before the doors as they slid closed.

"What's not to like?" He murmured, "I make great first impressions."

Nick couldn't suppress the small smirk that came across his face as he stood behind silently, arms crossed.

"Stark's really gonna love you."


	2. First Impressions

**2 (EDITED 8/9/15)**

* * *

Tony watched the second hand on his watch steadily gliding past each number and as it got to the thirty second mark, he flipped the app away with a finger and took to looking through his emails. He gave a sigh. Of course, if he'd been in the middle of something urgent, there would have been no less than a hundred emails reading _'URGENT!'_ in the description.

Rolling his eyes, he flipped back to the watch.

9:29

Tony stood from his seat

"Stark." Steve leaned back into his seat, looking at him with an exhausted, overused, glare.

"I think we're done here, I got a cool new mix tape to listen to so I'll just be going no-"

"Sir," It was Jarvis' voice that came across the speaker, "Director Fury and his companion will be here within thirty seconds."

Steve gave an even-leveled gaze, a smirk beginning to crawl up the left side of his face like a spreading infectious disease. And Clint couldn't help catching it as he attempted to cover his own smirk up by resting his head into his hand.

Tony sat back into the office chair, sinking into the leathery plush with a suddenly pinched expression, "I'm starting to regret retrieving your program, Jarvis. Friday never interrupted me the way you do. And by the way, it's _former_ Director Fury. _Former_ \- Wait, Companion?" Tony's eyes squinted in thought. Had Fury said anything about another person? "...Jarvis, run a background."

"Already done, sir. Files are secured." If it was possible, Steve thought he heard a sudden snarkiness in Jarvis' voice, but if Tony noticed it at all, he ignored it.

"Well, bypass the sec-"

"Encrypted, sir."

"Decrypt them."

"Impossible. A passcode is needed and it's secured behind advanced firewalls."

Tony thought over his words just momentarily before something visible clicked in his eyes.

"Are these files SHIELD files, Jarvis?"

" _Old_ SHIELD files yes, sir. They're still secured in their former databases."

"Aren't there other files?"

"None."

"No...medical history? _Birth_ certificates? Nothing?"

"Nothing on him at all, sir."

"How about his _name?_ Does he have a name or are we just not good enough to know his name?"

The door opened and everyone looked to the entering figure. It was Fury with his signature black leather trench coat and eye patch. But as the door closed behind him, no _'companion'_ was to be seen.

"And, sir, it is in fact not _former_ Director Fury as Nicholas J. Fury is currently the Executive Director of the newly established SHIELD/Avengers International Directorate, also known as SAID, which is more often shortened to just 'The Avengers'."

" _Thank you_ , Jarvis. That'll be all."

Director Fury gave an eyebrow raise, "Talking about me, Stark?"

Tony cleared his throat, and sat up a little straighter in his seat, reaching for his coffee, "No?"

Clint gave a snort, burying his face deeper into his right hand.

"We've got important things to discuss, but if all of you want to giggle and laugh like fifteen year old girls, we'll postpone Dr. Banner's return."

Natasha sat up a little straighter, resting her elbows onto the table, "Last time your advice to me was that he'd send a postcard."

"And has he?"

Natasha sat back, swallowing. She looked down to the glass table top and took a short breath. She'd been waiting almost two years for any sign of life from him. Eighteen months. And to say the least, she'd been torn between staying here and going to Fiji herself to look for him.

Despite the support she knew she had from the others, would it be what Bruce wanted? A team mission to drag him back?

"I was wrong." Fury's voice lowered, but got scalier. Like the words were prickled and painful to release from his mouth, "Wrong that he'd try to make contact and wrong that he was in Fiji."

"Then...where is he?" Steve asked, pulling himself in closer to the table.

"Taiwan is our best bet."

"But why now?" Natasha asked, her voice was rougher now, as if she was doubting Fury's every word.

"It's not _just now_ , Natasha. I've been looking into his location since the moment he left on that jet. Dr. Banner is an Avenger and an integral part of this team...and whether you'd like to hear it or not, the Avengers are _weak._ We held up in the alien attack on New York because you acted as a team. Without one of you, it could've been a bigger disaster than it already was. And that attack was _miniscule_ compared to what we might face next. How do you think we'll do when the time comes again, and we're one avenger short? We might have new members, sure. But how many members does it take to replace Dr. Banner? We wouldn't know until the time came, and I'm not willing to take that chance when it comes to _my_ team, _my_ country, _my_ planet. So, the right question, Agent Romanov, would've been: Why am I coming to _you_ now? Because _now_ is when I gained the intel and resources to execute this mission. So the only question left is: are you in?"

The room went silent.

Natasha looked to Fury in the eyes after a few moments, "Absolutely."

"Yes" came from Steve, Clint, and Thor alike.

The rest looked to Tony.

He looked up from his watch, sucked in a breath and raised his eyebrows in that very: _'I have a question for you and you have to answer it before I'll answer yours'_ Tony Stark fashion.

" _Who_ did you bring with?"

Fury gave the slightest grin. He wasn't going to give Stark the satisfaction and ask how he knew, he had a good idea. And besides, he was going to celebrate the fact he couldn't get through the SHIELD firewalls for once. He had them Stark-proofed a couple years back, but he'd never been sure if they'd work against him.

"When I said I recently gained the resources, I was talking about him. He's also who I got my newest intel from. He'll be joining you on your mission, just in case Dr. Banner should have trouble controlling himself."

"How is he so special? Does he _also_ turn into a gigantic green monster?"

"Let's just say he can take a punch." Fury paused for a moment and then moved to the door, opening it with one hand, "Wilson."

Wade ripped his ear buds from his ears and stood on attention, "I thought you'd never call me in. Just finished half a Chromeo album and seven levels of Quetzalcoatl. I have mixed feelings about him as an artist, but hey, I can only _wish_ for mixed feelings from most people, so I can't say much." He gave a small laugh that he hoped didn't come across as nervous because he certainly was _not_ nervous.

He swallowed.

He was nervous.

He'd been spending the last thirty or so minutes mindlessly listening to disco-esque music and moving a snake-esque figure through mazes thinking about the many first impressions he'd been forced to give. And how horribly every one of them had gone. The first time he met Fury, he'd landed on his new car. And the more he thought about his first impression on Agent Gale, he realized how massively he'd fucked up. The kid probably thought he was some serial killer the way he stuck to protocol with him.

But he'd never been good in social situations. He ran his mouth a thousand miles per minute. He estimated five hundred words probably came out of his mouth every five minutes, and of all those words, there wasn't one people usually approved of.

He was, however, unusually nervous. Usually, there wasn't a meeting specifically designed to introduce him. Introductions just _happened._ And a lot of times, they couldn't even be called an introduction. It was more like, hey, I just smashed your car. Sorry. Or, hey, I just accidentally decapitated your dog. I promise I'll think about this later and feel real shitty. Sorry. Or, hey, I just accidentally shot you in the shoulder, but your were in the way, but I really am sorry. I'm so sorry. No, really, I am.

The first day of first grade was a memory that replayed sometimes and made his face go red hot. He stood up to give his name and accidentally said Babe Bilson. And after realizing his mistake while everyone laughed and called him "Baby Bilson" he started to cry and ended up peeing himself. He ended up having to transfer schools.

His heart was always in the right place. He was trying to do something right and ended up doing something wrong. He'd always get the job done. Failure was _never_ an option for Wade Wilson. _Never._ But there were mistakes. Mistakes he truly did feel bad about: even if no one would ever believe that in a million years, and he wouldn't waste his time trying to convince them it was true. Fuck 'em.

He figured that this would be how this ended. Fuck 'em. But he couldn't afford that ending. Not now.

He took a quick breath and gave small smile, entering the room, looking around the table at the people he knew as _'The Avengers'_ Earths mightiest heroes.

He let his worries rush out with a single last breath and focused on playing the song from earlier in his head. _'Hey, what's the matter with your feel right? Don't you feel right? Baby?'_

"Captain Wade Wilson at your service." He thought he'd add the captain for a little flourish, _'Deadpool at your service'_ could come a little later.

"Military?" Steve interjected, studying his face carefully.

Wade pulled a pair of dog tags from his t-shirt and lifted them for him to see. _'This is good! He's military too! Relating things is good, right?'_ "What gave it away, Captain Rogers? Dog tags or military grade hair cut?"

 _'Plus, I know his name. Hahaha! He's gotta love me already!'_

"Where were you stationed?" A smile suddenly came to Steve's face as he leaned back into his chair.

 _'I was stationed in-'_

" _That_ is classified." Director Fury replied quickly.

 _'Shit. He's right.'_

"U.S Army Special Forces. Sorrrry." He cupped a hand to his mouth, "I'll tell you later. It's really cool."

Tony gave the slightest smirk.

"No, you won't." Fury replied, "Now, Stark. Are you in?"

"What'd you mean he can take a punch?" Tony asked, inspecting Wade with his eyes carefully, looking him up and down for any clues, "Does he have a suit? Or a superhuman serum that inexplicably has lasted for over sixty years? Or is he a God? Or-"

"Woah, woah. Easy on the _new_ guy. He told you I could take a punch? Thanks for the intro, _Nick_ , I thought first impressions meant everything?" Wade narrowed his eyes, "And you, Mr. Ironman, sir, _you're_ beginning to make me feel inadequate."

Tony's smirk held up and he shook his head, "Sorry if I'm a little suspicious of someone who wants to be the human punching bag for a giant green hulk. I just wanna know what his play is. Is that so bad?" He looked around the table.

"Lay off, Stark." Steve gave a determined look.

"No, I don't think that's so bad. I'm asking a pretty simple question."

"I'll leave the questions and answers to Wade: but I do need one answer, Stark. _Are you in_?"

" _I_ need one answer: what's _his_ play?"

Fury placed both palms on the glass top, leaning over it and looking dead into Tony's eyes.

"Look: do you want Dr. Banner back or not? Because for the past month, he's done nothing but risk _his_ life to find him and he's your ticket to getting him. Trust me when I say he'd take more than just a bullet for you. If that's not dedication, I don't know what is. And there's nothing more than _that_ that you need to know, Stark."

"Sorry if I'm just a little underwhelmed with him." Tony shrugged and looked to Wade, "Thank you for your service, really." He looked back to Fury, "But, he looks like a standard soldier. Not someone who can take a clobbering to the face by a radioactive monster." Tony looked him over again.

 _'Hey, Stark, you don't even know, bro...I-I-I'm hooked on a feeling! High on believing!- Not right now...not_ this _song, fuck. I hate this song. No I don't, but-...keep it up girl! Yeah, you turn me on! I-I-I'm hooked on a feeling!'_

"Have you forgotten that 'radioactive monster' is also your team mate?" Steve said lowly, "And I'm not sure what your definition of 'friend' is Tony since you probably haven't had many, but he seemed like one to my understanding."

 _'Burrrn!'_

Tony's mouth thinned and flat-lined, his eyes went dull, "Don't act like that. Don't act like I don't care. I care."

"Really? Nobody here could tell." Steve leaned forward, arms now crossed, "If you care, you wouldn't care who this new kid is, you'd take whatever chance you got and run with it."

"And what if it turns out he turns against us? Turns against Bruce?"

"Fury wouldn't let people like that in. But you gotta take chances, Stark."

Tony's expression begun to soften and he looked from Wade to Fury with a somewhat reserved look about him. Wade could see he was about to give in.

Wilson suddenly began snapping his fingers, tapping his foot against the ground to a sub-familiar beat and Tony's expression went from unsure apprehension to obviously amused curiosity.

"Trying to live without your love is one long sleepless night. Let me show you, _Tony_ , that _I know wrong from right_. Every street you walk on, I leave tear stains on the ground. Following the _Avengers_ I didn't even want around. Oh baby, give me _one more chaaance!_ Won't you please let _mee_ back _in your heart_? "

Tony's expression turned to a snarky smile and suddenly gave an overly dramatic laugh, pointing his finger at him like a child watching his first comedy. It was all very very sarcastic and though everyone was thoroughly amused with the spectacle named Wade Wilson, they were less than pleased with Tony's cold unwelcoming attitude.

Clint could barely contain his snorting laughter, and hid it in the back of his throat. He looked to Natasha who quickly shook her head with a tight-lipped smile on her face.

"Jackson 5. Really?" Tony gave a loud sigh and pretended to wipe a tear from beneath his eye. His voice quickly turned dark and haunting, "I''m not missing out on _this_. An unstable maniac hellbent on finding a guy he doesn't even know? Why not?" Sarcasm was thicker in those words than in any words Tony had ever spoken.

"Well, that's all I needed." Fury slapped a hand against Wade's back, "Good job, kid. Oh, and your stuff should be here soon. You'll be leaving for Taiwan within a week. I'll let you all know."

And with that, the only ally Wade knew he had, went out the door.

"Man, I was just there. Let me tell you, the girls are incredible, but their parents are _assholes_. Hehheh...yeah..."

Tony looked back to the door, rolled his eyes, and looked down to his watch. He flipped through a couple apps and then looked up again to Wade, "Alright, _Wade_. I guess you'll be staying here, so I'll take you to see your bedroom." He stood at this point to stand beside him, but his eyes the entire time were testing him,"Give you a little tour of Avenger's Tower, then you can us tell about this invincibility and affinity for Jackson 5 you apparently have. Deal?"

"It's actually _just_ 70s music...and 70s inspired of course. " Wade provided.

"Stark."

"I just wanna know what he's bringing to the table that we're apparently in _desperate_ need of. Something wrong, Cap?"

"You're _trying_ to antagonize him."

"Am not."

"Hey, guys." Wade laughed, "I'm cool with it. Seriously. Not a biggie. " Wade looked to Tony and then Steve who was still sitting in the office chair.

 _'Now I know what it's like to be the hot chick in a soap opera, stuck in a love triangle. Ooh, I'm Kelly Taylor! Steve can be Brandon Walsh and Tony can be Dylan McKay. Hahahaha! Focus Wade, c'mon! '_

"See, Steve? Not a biggie. I got lunch with Pepper at twelve. So let's all have dinner here at six. Cool? We'll order a pizza. Alright, Wade?"

"Yeah-yuh. Pizza's my jam. Promise me no anchovies and we've got a deal."

"Deal!" Tony gave a sly smile to the others, " _No_ anchovies." he turned back to Wade, "Let's go, Wade."

Tony placed a hand on his back to lead him out of the room and suddenly found himself aware of the swords on his back. He retracted his hand quickly and raised his eyebrows, continuing to lead him out of the room, "What're these? Expensive antiques you didn't trust Fury with handling?"

"More like tools for necessary uses of force. Whatever euphemism fits the bill for your virgin ears."

The doors closed behind.

Clint looked around to the others, "I think Tony found himself a little protégé in the arts of sarcastic assholism."

"Friends: What is this "70s music" that the sword bearer speaks of?" Thor looked around to the others for a provided answer but received half open mouths and darting eyes. How did you _explain_ 70s music?

"It's just...songs made in the 70s, buddy." Clint offered.

"Is there something special about this era of musical creation?"

Steve put a hand onto his massive shoulder and stood from his seat as the others did, "I'll let you borrow my records another time...I had to learn too."

* * *

Wade looked around the impressively sized bedroom. He'd never been in anywhere quite this nice _legally_. Or without being under fire or in full stealth mode at least. He'd never gotten to lay across the sheets, release his utility belt from around his waist and release himself from the confines of all his holsters: including his sword sheaths on his back, strapped across his body.

He found a stereo with a port at the top and rushed to take out the iPhone from his pocket. He yanked the headphones from the audio jack and put the phone onto the port, starting the Chromeo album from where he'd left off. He picked up the wireless stereo, bringing it into the conjoined bathroom and closed the door behind himself.

He started the shower and listened as the song started echoing off the walls around him. It sounded like he was in the middle of a concert.

He danced his way through getting undressed, popping his hip out to the beat of the song.

"Dudes'll just step to ya' with a corny line, asking for your name, saying _what's_ your sign?"

He left the pile in the middle of the heated tile floor and made his way into the sleek modern shower, closing the glass door behind himself.

"If you think romance is dead and goooone, find a jukebox full of 45's, pop a nickel in it and it all comes back to me..."

He grabbed the yellow bar of soap, it was so soft it almost squeezed into his hand's shape like a piece of Plato. It's suds even felt expensive and the smell told him it was certainly far from his budget; it smelled like a pure jar of honey. Not exactly his scent of choice, but he wasn't about to complain.

"If you think romance is dead and goooone, fine a jukebox full of 45's, pop a nickel in it and-"

He looked down to his hand.

It was still wrapped in the gauze, he'd forgotten to take it off before he'd gotten into the shower. He released the gauze from the teeth of the small metal clip holding it together and watched it unravel.

He paused briefly. Letting the water slap him against his back roughly. Over and over again, hitting him deep into his muscle tissue. There were three shower jets. He'd never been in a shower with more than one head.

Snapping from his trance with the chorus of the song, he set to looking for the shampoo bottle. It's scent matched the bar of goats milk soap. And with this thought in mind, he was reminded of shaving. His facial hair was borderline beard. He'd clipper it: he figured there'd be a set of clippers, but he really should've done it before jumping in the shower.

But damn, the shower felt like the nearest thing to heaven as he was going to get to it. Or an orgasm: he hadn't had one of _those_ in a long time. This was pretty close though, he decided.

He turned the shower off and as he begun to dry off, he set to finding the clippers. He found them beneath the sink.

"Knew it!" He put on a number two guard and took it across his face, leaving just a five o'clock shadow across his face. "Haha, number two.." He replaced the guard with a five and took it across the top, and a three to the sides, using none at the edges. Not quite a jar head cut, a little longer: rebellious soldier was what Wade liked to call the look to his superiors in the military. That didn't convince them to let him keep it once.

The hair fell unceremoniously into the sink and he wiped the stray pieces off his neck, but cutting his own hair was something he did often and skillfully, most of it could found in the sink. He let it all wash down the sink as he turned on the faucet.

He looked to the medicine cabinet beside the door and opened it to find a fresh roll of gauze. "This man has _everything_." He re-wrapped his hand quickly, putting the gauze back into it's place when he'd put on a sufficient amount of layers and secured it with a new metal pin.

Towel around his hips, he side-jump danced back into the bedroom with his fake pistols pointing around the room again.

"Mr. Wilson?"

"Huh? Hey, I didn't know anyone was in here!" Wade looked around the room carefully and then up to the ceiling where he could've sworn he heard it come from, "...Care to join the party..wherever you are?"

"No, sir, I'm an AI. My name is Jarvis."

"Ah, an AI...riiight...I see..."

"Artificial Intelligence, sir. I'm a computer program: a software created by Mr. Stark. I live in the databases and the houses' electrical systems as a security measure."

"Pffft...I knew that."

"Of course you did, sir. I'm only here to tell you that you're things have been dropped off outside your door."

"Oh. Oh, ok. Thanks. You sure come in handy, don't you, Jarvis?"

"More often than Mr. Stark would like to admit. Have a lovely first day here in Avenger's tower, Mr. Wilson. If you need assistance, I am always here."

"Awesome. Thanks, Jarvis." Wade opened the door and looking down, he found his two green army standard duffle bags, _Wilson_ in black embroidery on the front of each of them looking up to him. He picked them up and placed them onto the bed in front of his many holsters and utility belt.

Opening the first one, he found his clothing. The second one, he found every one of his weapons inside, ammo being in the bottom and side pockets.

He took count and smiled when everything was in fact there and in pristine condition as Fury had promised.

"Hollly gun boner."

He put this beside his dresser and opened the first bag again, picking out a fresh pair of underwear and putting these on first before grabbing his only pair of jeans. Everything else was special ops grade straight leg cargos: good for tucking into combat boots, light weight, utilitarian, and silent, unlike his mouth.

He put on another plain t-shirt. Dark grey this time. Nothing special.

Never was.

Socks and his dark brown construction-like boots went onto his feet, the ones with the steel toes: they were his most relaxed footwear. He didn't get the chance to just chill out very often. He was typically doing _something_. This was truthfully a little new for him, but he was getting used to it _pretty_ quickly.

He removed his phone from the stereo's port in the bathroom and made his way to the door.

Smelling like a jar of pure honey, Wade opened the door to the hall and paused.

He looked back to his bed where the weapons he'd been wearing were laying. Should he just bring one? He never went _anywhere_ without at least a handgun on his hip.

He looked back down the hall and then into his bedroom one last time before closing the door behind himself. He was safe here, he reasoned with himself, he didn't need a gun. He was fine.

He was safe.

And if one of them _did_ get a hair up their ass and decided to demolish him? He'd reconstruct before their very eyes.

* * *

Wade found himself in the middle of what Tony had introduced as the _'main room'_ admiring his large array of alcohol at the bar. But he'd need to take more than just a few shots to get any kind of buzz, and he was pretty sure an entire bottle would be pretty noticeable if it went missing. He wasn't about to become a thief just yet. That could come when he was about to leave.

 _'Muahaha..'_

Wade moved to the living room area and then set his eyes on admiring the giant leather furniture sets with the expensive mauve accent-colored ottoman with secret storage bins and a little cooler in the middle of it for chilling wine. He played with this contraption momentarily, pressing the button again and again, watching the ottoman open mechanically with the little wisps of smoke coming out each time.

He looked towards the impressively sized television screen. Far more than 70 inches, possibly more than 80. But he wasn't very good at estimates in the measuring department, so it could've been a lot more.

But what he _did_ know was that the stereo system accompanying the television was _huge._ It had the same label as the one in his bedroom: _Stark Industries_.

He smiled a little to himself, looking from the stereo to the bar and then at the emptiness of the room.

He walked back to the bar, looked through the organized bottles of alcohol. Right to left it was the kind, bottom to top it was the brand.

He went all the way to the left side, picking up a bottle of dark rum, the highest one he could reach and read the label. It was an eight year old bottle of Bacardi, but it didn't matter a whole lot to him, he was looking for the proof. He put the bottle back and went down a few shelves to Bacardi 151.

He gave a smile and uncapped it, heading to the living room set with it in hand. He paired his phone with the stereo through Bluetooth and the album begun to play again.

He set his phone down onto the ottoman with the little plush buttons and proceeded to climb on top of the couch, bringing the bottle into his mouth and taking a large swig.

"I get jealous! But I'm too cool to admit it. When the fellas! Talk to my girl, I ain't with it. I get jealous! But I'm too cool to admit it. When the fellas! Talk to my girl, I ain't with it. I ain't with...I ain't with it, I ain't with it, I ain't with it..."

He brought the bottle back into his mouth and took another drink. The rum was like pure fire pouring down his throat, but so long as he was going to feel something from it he was down for anything. The last time he'd even felt the slightest buzz was three years ago in that guy Mason Verger's house. He had the mission to crack his bedroom safe, but he stopped for a trip at his bar. He got the _smallest_ buzz before getting caught, but then it lasted only moments before he was back to boring sobriety. He didn't even get to know what he was drinking.

He started to guzzle the 151, "...You know and I know a thing or two about loyalty. Ooh, but that girl don't pay no mind..."

Jumping from cushion to cushion, he raised both hands into the air, looking around the room. If it was an IKEA room, the room price estimate would've said _Everything in this room for: Thirty million fucking dollars!_

And it was time to do absolutely _nothing_ for once. He could do this all day long if he wanted and not have to worry about a gun shot to the face.

 _'Wooh, happy day!'_

"I get _jealous!_ But I'm too cool to admit it. When the _fellas_! Talk to my girl, I ain't with it."

He chugged until the bottle was half gone, and looking out the window at the big bustling city and fifty thousand dollars windows panes and the entire thirty million dollar room he suddenly felt it hit him.

"I get _jealous!_ "

Wade turned around, hands in the air, when he was faced by both Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanov. His arms slowly lowered, the music running on without him in the background. His smile only fell by a single degree.

"Oh. Hey guys. Wanna..." He looked at the half empty bottle, "...drink? Or..." He looked down at the couch, "...a cushion?"


	3. Confessions of a Liar

Confessions of a Liar

* * *

3

* * *

"Tony."

Tony looked up the plate of food before him, a pastrami sandwich he'd barely touched and six handfuls of sweet potato fries that had also gone lukewarm. In Pepper's eyes, he saw her accusing stare laced with bits of concern here and there, but mainly, he saw confusion.

"I feel like I'm having this conversation with myself. What's wrong with you today?"

He sat back a little into his seat and shrugged, looking around the traditional New York deli full of funny jackass signs and a bunch of loud noisy people. They both loved this place even though they always complained about how terrible the crowd was.

"New co-worker." He rubbed the back of his neck and let a puff of air out.

Pepper analyzed Tony's less than satisfied expression, "You don't like them?"

"I don't know. I just-...He seems alright, I guess. A little out there..., I mean, He started singing _Jackson 5_ in the middle of a _serious_ discussion."

"Sounds very similar to another person I know..." Pepper murmured, rolling her eyes and stirring her straw around in her lime water.

"Fury knows where Bruce is."

Pepper looked up, eyes suddenly intensely watching his every move looking for some sign that he was joking, "Really?"

"Yeah. Taiwan. And supposedly, this guy Wade has been in on this for a while. He's the one who found him."

"Well, that's great, Tony, I don't understand-"

"No. See... " Tony wiped his hand beneath his nose and blinked a few times that Pepper instantly recognized as a sign of aggravation. He leaned in closer and locked eyes with her, "...there's all kind of things wrong with this picture. First of all, I don't get why it was _his_ mission. It should've been ours, he's _our_ teammate. And second of all, why is he volunteering for this? Why does he care anything about Bruce?"

"Did he say he was volunteering?" Tony's mouth opened to respond and his expression turned reflective, "Maybe he doesn't _have_ a choice, Tony."

"Well, ok, but there's something else bothering me about it too. We have.." Tony used his fingers to count, hands extending across the classic black and white checkerboard diner-stye table top, "...two spies, a God, a superhuman, and me and my suits. Why do we need him?"

"Well, you're the one who met him. I don't know anything about him."

"Exactly. Neither do I. He said he was in the army..." Tony attempted to recall he specifics of the conversation, but it didn't take a lot of effort, he'd hung onto every little word, "...special forces. That's it, all I know. Fury says: He can take a punch. Well, to catch a hulk, you need to be able to take a whole lot more than a punch. I _do_ know that much.

Tony took out his wallet, taking out a fifty and ten dollar bill, setting them both on the table.

Pepper grabbed her bag as Tony stood and shoved his wallet back into his pocket. They made their way to the exit, Tony holding the door for her, his face still deep in thought.

"You had Jarvis do a background on _me_ without my consent... do a background on him."

"Tried. There's only a couple files to begin with and all of them are old SHIELD files that're sealed. Locked with no key."

"Well...Ok,..." Pepper attempted to maintain that professional air about her, "That does seem a _little_ weird. But I'm _sure_ you're overreacting as usual. Have you tried..I don't know? Talking to him? Like a human?"

"We're ordering a pizza. All of us are having dinner together. Kinda like a: Welcome to our exclusive club kinda deal, but... I'm just gonna interrogate him." Tony shrugged, knowing Pepper's face would be one of complete disapproval, "I just want some answers before I let him take us to an undisclosed location and kill us all. Otherwise, I'll have an obituary that reads: If only, if only.."

"Fine. Fine, Tony. Interrogate him away. But don't cry to me when you've gained _another_ enemy. Meanwhile, I have the night off. Guess I'll just spend it... _alone_..."

Tony looked to her, eyebrows furrowed: "I thought you had to be on a plane to Chicago for a conf-"

"Cancelled, actually. That's what I was telling you over lunch but...you missed every word." Pepper rolled her eyes as Tony stretched his arm across her shoulders, making a turn at the corner of the sidewalk as they headed towards the car garage two blocks down.

"Sorry, Pep." He hung his head low in a dramatic fashion, "I'm a terrible terrible human being and I promise to devout every moment to you from now on. And I'd invite you to our pizza party but it's boys only, we couldn't risk giving the newbie cooties."

"Natasha won't be joining?"

"Natasha's kinda..more of a...guy..."

Pepper snorted and closed her eyes, attempting to refrain from smiling but she knew it was spreading across her face like a child, "More of a guy than _you_."

"You know what? You're right about that one. You can come."

Pepper gave a frilly sort of laugh, the kind the required you to open your whole mouth and lean your head back and let the it come up from your heart and out. Tony smiled and laughed a little to himself, watching her business sleek ponytail flounce behind her. She regained herself enough to smile at him, still high off the residual giggle left in her chest. Tony leaned in, smiling, and kissed her.

And if it didn't solve anything, at least it made him feel just a little more relaxed. Even if only for the moment.

* * *

"Soups on!" Tony carried three large pizza boxes into the middle of the living room, passing by the bar and entered into the kitchen. Pepper held the last one along with a two liter of Pepsi as she closed the door behind herself and followed Tony's footsteps into the kitchen.

They set all four out on the island as the others begun to come into the kitchen. They'd been sitting in the living room, discussing little bits of nothing.

"And the pizza bearer comes forth!" Thor yelled with hooting laughter as looked over the four identical pepperoni pizzas, "Oh, how I love these puny earth pies."

Pepper looked over those entering the kitchen. Natasha came in beside Steve, still deep in what appeared to be a serious conversation. Thor was busy watching Tony take out a stack of paper plates and solo cups. Clint came in last, looking around the kitchen from behind, smiling when he made eye contact with Pepper and offered a small half-wave.

She returned it with a smile and looked back to the empty doorway. No sign of the _'newbie'_ as Tony called him.

"I heard you guys got a new guy?" Pepper said casually, moving to help Tony put slices of pizza on plates.

"Oh, yeah. Wade." Clint murmured, taking up a plate casually after Thor got his three pieces. (He was, of course, the reason they needed no less than four pizzas).

"Where is he?" Pepper looked from Clint to Natasha, "Is he a little...shy?"

Natasha gave half a smile, "Not...exactly.." She grabbed a plate and looked to Steve. She debated leaking the bit about catching him mid-disco dance on the couch with a bottle of rum in his hand or not. Then decided against it. It could be a good story for later.. was no telling when Wade might burst into the room. "He went wandering a couple hours ago. Not sure where he is."

Tony looked up to Natasha and then back to the pizza box, moving another slice onto a plate, "Jarvis."

"He's in his bedroom, sir. Currently cleaning a rifle and listening to music."

Pepper raised an eyebrow.

"Tell him the pizza's here." Tony said, grabbing two plates and moving into the living room. Pepper grabbed her own plate and the two liter, following behind the others

They found their seats around the ottoman and Tony flipped a switch, turning the soft pillow top into a hard wooden surface that he set his cup of ice onto. He poured his own drink and the others followed this idea.

Tony leaned forward, taking a bite out of the grease-ladden slice as the others sipped and bit off their slices quietly. There was a thick and intense air around them.

"Tony. Don't be too rough."

"I won't damage your war buddy too much, Cap, calm down."

Steve scoffed, shaking his head and dropping his pizza onto the plate, "He's offering his _help,_ Stark."

"He's a _suspicious_ stranger. I know back in the happy good old days soldiers were saints in fatigues, but that's not necessarily true anymore."

"You're _way_ outta line, Stark."

"No, _you're_ out of line, oh so _saintly_ one. I'm not letting a _complete_ stranger lead me-"

"Tony." Pepper warned sternly.

Pepper. Please. -or lead my _team_ into a death trap."

"Tony."

"Am I a bad person for that? I mean, really?"

"I wouldn't say so." Tony mouth clicked shut at the sound of those words and looked to Pepper's defeated face. he gave half a smile and turned back towards the origin of the voice.

Wade stood there at the doorway to the hall, walking in casually to the last empty seat where a slice of pizza rested.

Pepper's face displayed complete and utter exhaustion. She sighed, resting her head into one of her hands and after a moment, she lifted herself up from the hand and looked to Wade.

"I'm so sorry for how much of a complete _ass_ Tony's being. He's really not usually _so_ bad." Pepper said quickly with a pleasant smile to Wade, and then turned to give a perturbed glare towards Tony, "I'm Pepper."

"I'm Wade." He leaned over, extending his "un-gauzed" hand in greeting, "And it's not a problem, seriously." He looked up to Tony, "I'm this weird dude you know nothing about: but you do know _three_ things by now. My name and both my music and food preferences. Well, actually, if we're talking about absolute _favorite_ food of all time, it'd be chimichangas, but that's not really the point: sorry, I'm a rambler. Point is...I know you think I'm kinda weird. I do too. And I'm _fully_ prepared..." He lifted his slice of pizza and took an abnormally large bite out of it, chewing for a moment before continuing, "...to explain what I can. I'm not trying to be mystery guy."

"Great. This'll be smooth then." Tony gave a fake smile, sipping from his cup. Steve was sure he'd seen him slip something else into the cup near the bar. He knew Tony would say it was seltzer water, but he knew better by this point.

"Sure."

"First of all: I did a background check."

Wade gave a genuine laugh, one very similar to Pepper's, but it was a lot less attractive and a little more maniacal on him. He wiped his mouth and shook his head, waving his hands in front of him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's just: That reminded me of a job interview when I fifteen for Taco Shack. Sorry." He picked up his solo cup again, "Ok, so background checks. That's cool. Find anything good?" He smiled a little as he took a drink from his cup, the kind of smile that said he knew what the answer was already going to be.

He took a bite of pizza.

"There were only three files."

"What'd they say?" Another bite of pizza.

"They were sealed."

"Hm."

"Why would those files be sealed, Wade?"

He set the pizza back on the plate, it was near the crust by this point. He wiped his hands off on a stray paper towel and shrugged.

"I thought this was gonna be smooth, Wade."

Wade shook his head, usually, he'd say: Hey, fuck you pal, I don't have to explain _shit_ to you, ok, bub? But Fury's words rang in his ears a little too clearly. He _needed_ them to like him.

"No, ok, look," He laughed a little and wiped beneath his nose with the bottom of his hand, "I'll explain a little better: I _knew_ my files would all be gone. Those have been gone since I was twenty and they put me in special forces. They literally _burned_ anything paper and trashed anything digital. Any other files since then...I don't even know what they'd be about. I don't know what anyone could have on me...I-..." He thought for a moment about the question Tony had faced him with: Why would those files be sealed? He shook his head and shrugged again.

"They were old SHIELD files," Tony leaned back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other, watching Wade's face carefully, "does that give you any hints?"

"Uh..." Wade looked distant for a moment, "Well. For a little while, I was in the database as an emergency contact."

"Emergency contact?" Steve reiterated, looking a little confused.

"It's like a last result." Natasha replied, "It's people SHIELD would use if they had no one else. Usually, they owed SHIELD and in return, they got put on the list."

"So that's what this is? You owe Fury a favor?" Tony asked and then gave a little ironic laugh, "And Fury thinks we're not good enough to get back our own friend?"

"No, not really." Wade shook his head and smiled, "Look. You're getting a _l_ _ittle_ confused here. I _used to be_ an emergency contact for _every_ government branch and department, ok? I'm not anymore. I mean, not officially. But, hey, maybe that's what some of those files were about, I...I dunno." He shrugged again, "...I've done so many missions, I'm not 100% sure on what would be in those files."

Tony found himself falling further and further down a hole of ultimate confusion, and deeper her fell, the angrier the pit of hate was rising, the more suspicion clouded around this character in front of him, the more distrust built up inside of his gut. He narrowed his eyes accusingly.

"You're wrong, I'm not a _little_ confused. I'm _very_ confused." Tony replied, his eyes were blinking again and again. Pepper watched it with dread as his eyes turned over to that sarcastic little glint, and his lips took on that signature _'I'm getting pissed off'_ smile. "If you're so willing to tell us everything, Wade, why is it that you haven't said a single thing that makes any sense yet?"

Wade's smile fell, and his voice was lost in his throat for a moment, "Um. Ok, I'll start at the beginning here...Fury asked me a while back, like...I don't know, fifteen, sixteen months ago, to go search Fiji for a guy named _Bruce Banner_. I had some other stuff going on and...I just couldn't. So a couple months back, I didn't have anything going on and I accepted his uh... _'request'_. Long story short, I ended up finding him in Taiwan, and since the mission was to _locate_ him and report back I didn't even get close enough to say hi. Fury asked me when I got back to then _retrieve_ him. _With_ you guys. Chain of command, ya' know?"

"So why would you agree to this?" Tony continued, "It's not exactly volunteer work. First, you were too busy, and now you're spending months on a rescue mission for a person _you_ don't even _know_."

"..Well, uh..." He could feel everyone's eyes on him, this was big question number one and it was time to answer it. No more avoiding. " The...uh, _payout_ , is high. I'm a _gun for hire_. Sooo...I'm being paid for the job."

But it didn't mean he had to tell the _truth._

Tony went quiet for only a second, his features were hard and his eyes were unmerciful. No one moved. "You must be pretty good if Fury's putting you on a payroll. What makes you think you can take on a raging hulk if _we_ can't?"

At this, Wade finally became silent, and he looked down into his solo cup full of Pepsi. This was big question number 2 and there were a lot of ways to go about answering it.

"Ok, good point. You're right. I _can't take him on_. I'm _not_ as strong as your God friend, Thor. I don't have a cool ass suit or the stealth of ninja or any of that shit. I know how to work a gun...I'm a well-trained _operative_ _soldier..._ and I know how to use a sword...but I can't take a hulk on. To be honest with you...I'm being paid to be a human shield."

Tony snorted and shook his head, "Well, I don't know what exactly the job description said, man of steel, but you realize you'll die if you go through with this. Right?"

Natasha studied Wade's half-smile carefully: it showed he clearly wasn't worried, but it wasn't a fact he was proud of. There wasn't even a trace of arrogance in his expression. She thought back of the bottle of rum he'd had in his hands and the fact it was half empty. At 151 proof, he should've been at least slurring his words. He seemed giddy at most and it was already gone.

The facts were adding up quickly in her head.

"You were given the serum too."

Wade looked up, confusion now evident on his face, "What now?"

"Sir," The voice was electrifying, "...there's foreign activity coming directly towards Avengers Tower." Jarvis severed the conversation in half, Tony looking towards the drawn curtains and then back to Wade.

"This conversation isn't over. Curtains, Jarvis."

The curtains pulled back, sucking back up into the walls like a fleeing woman in a long ball gown. Tony looked at the sunset sky and in that spread of orange was an oncoming plane. Tony looked just slightly to the left and saw another.

Steve stood from his chair, coming up beside Tony, his mouth taut and fists tight by his side.

"Avengers..." Steve's eyes remained on the two planes, "Assemble."

Tony turned from his position, running quickly to the minibar, grabbing three of his wrist bands, slapping one on his own wrist as he threw the second to Pepper. They pressed the buttons almost simultaneously.

"Pepper, you need to get out of here as soon as you're in a suit." Pepper looked to him, panic stricken, "Ok?"

"Ok!" She nodded quickly, standing from her seat, and swallowed, "Ok." Her face became flushed as she turned back around to see the two jets still charging at full speed towards the tower, becoming larger and larger by every moment.

"Wade." Tony threw a band to him, Wade caught and looked down at it with intrigue, "Put this on and press the button."

Wade's curiosity was satisfied when he watched as two suits, piece by piece, entered the room, slapping themselves onto Tony and Pepper's bodies like a jigsaw puzzle.

Wade smiled a little and threw it back to him, "Thanks for the offer, but I don't need this." He threw it back towards Tony who caught it in his hands, a look of confusion on his face, "Remember? Human shield."

"Wade this isn't a joke-"

"I'm not joking."

"...Alright Rocky." Tony shook his head, throwing the bracelet back up onto the bar. The mask smacked onto the head piece,"You get 'em fighter."

Pepper swallowed. She could make out the windows on the jets, the writing across it's body, the metallic sleek shine off it's wings. The planes would be crashing the building any second. She looked back to Tony, he made eye contact and the message was clear. He examined her armor: she was missing just a couple arm pieces, but it could mean the difference between life and death. He rushed forward. Gunfire sent the windows shattering in a million pieces of crystal.

"Tony!"

" _Hold on_!" Wade sang, his run turning into a full sprint, "I'm comin'!... _Hold on_..." Wade jumped over the couch and on top of Pepper, pressing her and the few pieces of armor attached to her body, to the ground. "I'm comin'!"

Tony, using his boosters fell in front of Pepper, protecting her from the bullets, and just as he did, the remaining armor pieces clicked into place. Wade jumped from his position on the floor, making his way to the bare window. The glass littered the floor, sparkling in the setting sun's dying rays. The jet was close enough to crash into the building, and it begun to bank to the right, he stepped back three steps.

"One...two...here we go.." He started to run forward.

"Are you _suicidal_?" Steve screamed, running from his former position behind the sofa towards Wade, grabbing him by the arm, "We need a plan!"

"I've got one!" He said, rolling his shoulder out from his grip.

"Wilson!"

He rushed forward, leaping from the window, feet positioned into a perfect pencil jump. The way down was long and felt like forever as Steve watched with a slack jaw. He just admitted to being _powerless_. How could he-?

Wade crashed through the windshield, into the cockpit as Tony ran forward, thrusting his boosters to maximum speed and went after the jet at full speed.

"When you feel _down_ and _out_...Sing a song," Wade sang as his foot connected with the pilot's head. His neck made a crack and his head did a full 180 before his hands dropped from the yoke. " it'll make your _day..."_

The co-pilot yelled in a language Wade didn't recognize and he simply cocked an eyebrow and smiled as he blocked his oncoming punch, "Here's a time to shout...Sing a song, it'll make a _way_." His fist connected with his cheekbone, "Sing a _soooong_..." He grabbed his hand and threw him out the gaping hole where the windshield had once been, " ...sing a _sooong_...bada...ba bada..."

Wade jumped into the pilot's seat when he noticed something shining attached to the co-pilot. He looked a little harder and roled his eyes as realization came to him. He snatched the gun attached to the co-pilot's hip and shook his head, "What the fu-...Dude, why'd you try to punch me if you had a gun? Confucius say, he who partakes in _dumbassery_ , not live long life. " He wedged it between his hip and pant's waist band, "Well, guess he was smart guy, wasn't he? Look at you: you're dead. But, anyway, Mr. Dumbass, I never was much of a pilot. But there's another saying here: Any landing you can walk away from..." He laughed out loud into the vacant air, "That saying probably doesn't apply to _me_. Right, dumbass?"

He made a sharp turn, it's nose pointed directly at the other oncoming jet, positioning it as he hovered above the thousands of fleeing civilians.

"First day on the job... good warm up I guess."

Tony, in full suit, suddenly appeared before him, looking in through the windshield. "Alright Evel Knievil, you've earned enough street cred, let's get you out of there. I'll take it from here."

Wade cocked an eyebrow, "And what're you gonna do?"

Tony hoovered silently for a moment, before coming to the conclusion Wade seriously wanted an answer, "Throw _this_ fighter jet..." He pointed, "...into the _other_ fighter jet. Did you want to be in the front row for the ride?"

"You can _lift_ this?"

"If it's in autopilot, I can steer it from the outside." Wade met his helmet's eyes with a look of disbelief. "Yeah, tough guy? What's _your_ great plan? Play _chicken_ with guys on a _suicide mission_?"

"Yup. Just try and catch me when I jump, alright?"

" _Thor_ can lift this, Wilson. Let me get you out of there before you _kill_ yourself, Captain Moron."

"No can do! No time! Hasta la pizza, man!"

Wade pulled forward again, throwing the jets into full power, his eyes locked with determination on the jet ahead. The speedometer was increasing in exponential numbers and the jet didn't waver from it's path. They were inching closer and closer together, within thirty seconds, both metallic and organic debris would spread across the city's roads in a fiery storm.

"Do do do doo...do do do doo...ahha ahha! I need a hero! I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night! He's gotta be strong and he's gotta be fast and he's gotta be fresh from the fight!"

"Impending crash! Impending crash!" A robotic voice screamed over the intercom into Wade's ears over and over until it decided a countdown was best, "Collision in...nineteen...eighteen...seventeen..."

The jet before him wavered slightly.

Wade's brow furrowed, "What're you about to-?"

The jet moved to his immediate left and Wade quickly followed suit, "No, no!...Not _today,_ dickenheimers! Nein, nein, nein!"

His jet was positioned into a perfect t-bone; it was travelling fast. He grabbed the gun from his lap and positioned it at the plane's jets, three shots and fire erupted from a small hole. It's speed decreased to an almost sluggish pace in comparison to his own. That would do the job. The crash was imminent without a chance of escape unless they jumped. Like he was about to. But _unlike_ them, he had a rescue team ready...well, hopefully. And if not, the fall to the New York sidewalk would be filled with carnage and pain.

"This was the best summer ever! To think: me a big city kid, could fit in with you hillbilly hicks and win your respect and your skanky woman?" Wade jumped from the seat and made it to the cockpit's door, "I mean...disgustingly malnourished! I mean...well, no that's what I meant." He pulled the handle and shoved against the door, "Send Lori Singer a fruit basket for me, will y-?"

The door wasn't budging.

"Hm..Well. _This_ is a game changer."

He tried again with the same result and frowned. The plane's thrusters were failing. "Ooh big ol' jet airliner, don't carry me too far awaay..." He looked to the broken windshield. It was his only other option, but at the rate he was going, the plane would be crashing within just seconds.

"Readysetgo!" He jumped onto the chair onto the control dash, and out onto the nose. He made the quickest running start he could and launched himself into the air. He was falling, falling, fast.

"I refuse to sing free falling. What a cliche." Wade said to himself, falling straight to the Earth's hard, cold, crust, back first and limbs reaching up to the sky as if by their own choice. His stomach sank, touching his spine as the acids built up into his esophagus.

His eyes were fixated on the plane, watching with anticipation as it crashed into the mid-section of the other, ripping and tearing the metal apart like a piece of wet paper. The plane was nothing but fiery debris as it begun to fall back down to the Earth. Whatever passengers had been on it were now nothing more than a part of all the fire and smoke that filled the air.

"It's just the start and this is something good." Wade murmured the lyrics, nodding his head and snapping his fingers on one hand, but the voice was distracted. His eyes darted around the smoky sky, looking for his evac. Gold and yellow. "...something good, something good, something good, this is something good..."

A metallic blur smashed into his body, and for a moment he was confident that it was the _infallible_ Iron Man, but instead, it was a piece of airplane debris burning down layers of skin and cracking his clavicle. He hissed and pushed it away from himself.

"Fuck! Mother O'Neill and sons of O'Hara!" He closed his eyes. He knew the impact was soon and it was going to hurt like a son of a bitch.

"...this is something... _bad._.."

Metal slammed against him again, and his only good arm instinctively shot out to push it away from himself.

"Gotcha."

Wade re-opened his eyes looking up to the metal mask and then back up at the sky, watching as electricity danced around the Norse god who attempted to collect as much of the debris as possible with net-like electrical fields.

"Oh, hey. Yeah, I knew you'd get here at some point, buckaroo."

"Sure, sure, daredevil."

"Never call me that again: that guys a jerk."

"What?"

"Nevermind. Thanks for the lift...even if it is a _little_ late."

"Yeah, well if you'd let me do it my way you'd of been just fine. We'll get you checked out in the infirmary."

"I don't think that'll be totally necessary-"

"Hah. With the hit you just took?"

"Okie dokie. If wasting resources and time is your forte, we'll play it that way." Wade replied, "Meanwhile, the ol' reliable healing factor will kick in."

"The what?"

* * *

 **I won't bite! Reviews are welcome! (Please?)**

 **Sorry for the long wait to the update. ugh. Summer classes. Microbiology and any online courses do NOT mix well kiddies. (For anyone who is in college or about to go into their first year of college, I'll let you know now. Micro isn't all that hard, but ANY online course mixed with it? HELLISH... Take Micro by itself and accelerated!)**


	4. Agent Deadpool

Agent Deadpool

* * *

 **4**

* * *

Tony looked at the skin with fascination. It was in the exact condition it'd been in before. Without a single ding, dent or scratch. He knew Steve had accelerated healing, and Natasha as well to a lesser extent, but this was something else entirely. He'd seen the hit. A sharp metallic plate, twice the length of Wade and three times as wide, came crashing down onto him, slicing his shoulder open and releasing a shower-like spray of red. Tony's stomach had dropped at the sight of it.

Now, it was gone. Not even a scar. The stain on his shoulder remained, but it was as though the rest of his body had been thrown into a time warp into the past.

"How is that possible?" Tony murmured, eyes still stuck on the patch of skin that Wade had exposed as proof that he, indeed, did _not_ need a trip to _any_ infirmary or hospital. _Thanks_.

"Healing factor. Like I said."

"No, no _I_ have a healing factor and _mine_ can't do that." Steve replied, staring down in equal bemusement, voice beginning to get lost in the wonder, "It at least takes a day."

"Uh, well." Wade pulled his shirt back up onto his neck, "You see, _Capi-tahno,_ there's some major differences between yourself and I. They gave you a serum, for example, versus myself, who under went days and days and _days_ of genetic experimentation. And unlike me: They wanted you strong and powerful and bah buh bah buh bah. Me: They figure who gives a fuck if he loses an arm and gets crushed? If he can heal within seconds...he's indestructible. Super soldier thing but with a little different thinking. Outside the box, you might say. Cool? Cool." He paused and stood from the couch, putting a hand on his hip and staring out the broken window, "So, uh, is anyone else wondering who the hell those guys were? Or is it just me?"

"I thought you said you couldn't take on a hulk." Tony said accusingly, "I think a _healing factor_ qualifies-"

"No, look, _dude_ , I _can't_ take him on. I can let him rip me from limb to limb and distract him. _There's_ my job description: Duties include, distracting a terrifying green monster, being a human shield for all member of the Avengers, and getting squashed like a _fucking_ bug."

Tony gave him a suspicious look and then looked again out at the window. The smoke and ash was clearing and in the distance sirens wailed.

"So about the people who just tried to kill all of us?" Pepper asked quietly as she allowed, hesitantly, for the armor to release itself from around her. She was out of breath, swallowing continuously in an attempt to regain her voice and her confidence. "Tony?"

"I don't know who those guys were." Tony replied, looking to Wade, "Wade. Do you think Fury might know? You've been his buddy for the last year or so, right?"

Wade turned around, shrugging with all the innocence he could muster, "We're not exactly... _buddies_. I _kinda_ wrecked his car."

Tony gave him a blank albeit doubtful look and rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Jarvis? Get Fury on the line."

"Yes, sir. Calling _Director_ Fury now."

Tony gave a heated sigh, folding his arms across his chest with just the slightest smirk coming across his face. Despite the anger building, he couldn't get the image of Wade blowing up Fury's beloved car into smithereens. It at least offered some kind of consolation.

"Hello?"

Tony opened his mouth but Wade's voice replaced his own: "Hey Daddy Warbucks! Listen: the neighborhood kids are giving us a lot of _shit_. You know, like, trying to kamikaze our asses."

"We took away their slingshots." Tony added, the tweak of a smile growing across his face as he eyed Wade's full-blown grin.

"But we _scared ,_ Da-da."

"Well, this is a match-made in hell, isn't it?" Fury grumbled, "I already heard about the incident."

"Little more than an _incident_ , _Emilio Largo_." Tony replied heatedly, "Do you know how much this _single_ pane of glass is going to cost me?"

"I _imagine_ it'll be chump change for you." Fury replied coolly, "This is serious, Stark." Fury paused, "The men you just encountered are extremely dangerous. You should understand: that was just a _warning._ They'll be back. And with friends."

"How long have you known about these guys?" Tony bit back, "You're just now deciding to tell us about this?"

"I've known about them for a _while_. This is why bringing Dr. Banner back is critical. They won't stay this nice for very long."

Clint narrowed his eyes, "Who's _they_?"

"They're part of an organization called MARK. They've been forming for a while now...but they're operations are more advanced than I thought." He didn't offer anymore information.

"With respect, you said there _wasn't_ an immediate threat... _sir_. You said you were just...speculating." Steve held back his anger, releasing nothing more than an eyebrow twitch and a single balled fist.

"I _was_ speculating. But _now_ , there _is_ an immediate threat. I'm moving our schedules _forward_ ladies and gentlemen: be ready to go tomorrow. And Wade: you're uniform will be there shortly."

And with that, there was an affirming click and long pause filled the tower. The only noise came from the sirens outside below and the creak and groan of hot metal.

"...Uniform?" Steve finally asked, looking to Wade who was staring blankly at the broken window, seemingly examining the sparkling glass across the floor.

Wade didn't look back to him, his voice lacked any form of humor, "My old uniform."

He didn't offer anymore information.

* * *

Wade stepped out of the shower for the second time that day. He'd forgotten there was even a shower available to him. He'd been in a mode of pure survival for so long, he'd gotten used to living in filth for months at a time.

He stood in front of the mirror, unraveling the gauze from around his hand, staring down quietly as he watched the skin begin to slough off again. A piece, hanging down his hand, stood it's ground firmly. It held on just by a small hinge of skin to his wrist. He pulled gently, watching with dread as a longer strip suddenly pealed away from his arm along with it. Pink, bloody flesh appeared just before his healing factor kicked in. Within half a second, it was healed again. And moments later, it was again, coming off in a slimy slug-like goop.

He pulled it away from his arm for a second time. The same strip fell into the sink below and showed his bloody red flesh. And once more, healed over. This time, however, the skin grew back warped, puckered and pink like the rest of his hand had begun doing.

It'd be seconds and it'd try to fight it's way off his body again. And it'd grow back a hundred times over, more disfigured and contorted than the last time until it looked like the tips of his fingers: chewed up pieces of bubble gum.

He grabbed the medical kit, wrapping fresh gauze around it tightly to hold it in place.

For a while he'd been trying to deny it.

He been trying to reason that it was contained to his hand.

He smiled in spite of himself. he even gave a chuckle though his eyes showed no joy. They were dark and grey at this point; a significant change to what they'd been just hours earlier.

"Oh Wade. You optimist you."

It wasn't contained. Much like himself, it appeared it could not be restrained or held at bay. It would do as it pleased, when it pleased.

Whatever _it_ was...

 _...it_ was spreading.

Wade closed the door to the bathroom behind himself. He snatched a pair of boxers from one of his bags and pulled them up his body quickly as he threw himself into the bed. Not even bothering to even shut the lights off, he snapped his eyelids closed.

He was trained to sleep on command. And on command, in three hours, he'd wake up before anyone else to be prepared to leave at dawn. He'd clean every gun in his arsenal, have them attached and loaded, safety on...

He knew what Fury wanted.

He was delivering his uniform and that meant _subtlety_ was thrown out the window. He didn't want Wade Wilson anymore. He wanted the vicious killer raised in the army and perfected in a lab. He wanted the _other_ him.

He knew what it meant. Of course he did. He'd been warned about this by Fury himself, maybe three months back. He told him there was a threat brewing, and that should it become anything more than a threat, then games were over. _That's_ when he'd need him on his A-game. He said the name one day just above a whisper. _MARK._

The suit meant he'd have to do what Wade Wilson wouldn't, what Wade Wilson _couldn't_.

Shit was definitely hitting the fan.

Suit at his doorstep, five AM, he'd be what he hadn't been for almost a year since he took his undercover mission with Fury.

Agent Deadpool.

The monster that many feared.

But not nearly as much as he did.

* * *

 _Got a little serious didn't it? ;) Don't worry, we'll be back with some beep-bop tunes and kickass one liners soon. As well as some super cool fight scenes and longer chapters._

 _SOON..._

 _AND ALSO A CHANGE OF SCENERY._

 _(...thank god, this grey ass Avengers Tower is starting to get to me...)_

 _REVIEW if you can, thanks for reading!_


	5. Button Pushing

Button Pushing

* * *

 **5**

* * *

Wade sat both bags by each of his feet as he sunk down onto the edge of the bed.

He begun to wrap his arm tightly, binding his hanging skin back to his raw flesh with more force than ever.

It wasn't even dawn yet, but he was dreading the package he knew laid outside his door and sleep was impossible at this point despite the fact he knew had an extra hour to do so.

He bit the gauze off with his teeth and threw the remainder behind him onto the pillows. He looked down at the bandaging with narrowed eyes: if Bruce Banner couldn't fix him, he knew of only one other man who could on this Earth...

...and he vowed to kill him should he ever see him again.

He grabbed the bag of artillery and pulled our his two most prized pistols. He looked them over with a critical eye. Magazine was loaded, barrel was clean, safety was off. He set them beside himself and pulled out his Avtomat Kalashnikov Model 47: created by Mikhail Kalashnikov in 1945 during the last year of World War ol' Allies. Reliable and undeniably iconic: the AK-47.

How could you go wrong?

A quick check and he set it beside the two pistols. Without hesitation he jumped from the bed and retrieved, beneath it, his two most trusty weapons. His weapons of absolute choice: his two katanas, hand-crafted by an elderly Japanese swordsman who, last time he'd checked, worked for the yakuza.

He set these onto the bed as well. Lined up along the white covers, were his personal weapons of mass-destruction. The loadout of choice for one Agent Deadpool.

He frowned.

He opened the door with a sigh and looked down. A black backpack sat at his feet, awaiting him. Grabbing it and opening it, he knew what he'd find. But a fleeting thought raced across his mind momentarily. What if he left it there? What if he left it all there? Just walked out the building and-.

And what?

Where could he go?

And at what cost? How could he live life with a degenerating flesh-eating disease?

...could he?

He stared at the black bag.

He slammed the door behind him and closed his eyes, throwing the bag onto the bed in front of him. He unzipped the top and looked in cautiously. There, sitting at the bottom, was the costume. Unceremoniously, without care, it sat crumpled in the shadows, dusty.

He hadn't worn it since...

 _"You don't have a choice here, Wade."_

 _"Thanks for the insight,_ Wade _, but-"_

 _"No buts. Captain Wilson, put on the uniform."_

He ripped the black suit from the black bag and looked into the darkness, and soon, he felt the darkness look right back into him.

* * *

"Captain Wilson."

Steve Rogers looked from the floor where he'd been previously thinking over what words he might offer to Bruce when he saw him to looking up at the man he'd only just met: Wade Wilson.

He looked over the dark grey suit again with it's rust, military-grade red belts and accents. Save for two bands around his forearms and the utility belt around his waist, the rest of his person was the color of a street-light shadow. The new suit was somewhat unsettling to Steve.

It raised a serious question in him: Where had _America_ gone? From their super soldier savior being decked in the red, white and blue to it being an un-killable swordsman in black and blood red? What was sitting in front of him appeared to be the product of desperation, fear, and...something sinister.

The man himself, Wade, was ultimately strange and though he was undecided on his opinion of him, he was willing to give him a chance. He was on their side thus far, having proven it was the recent attack on their tower. And that was good enough for Steve. So he offered an eyebrow raise and a half-smile. He deserved at least that. But, then again, maybe he just felt guilty because internally, he'd begun to feel the same doubt that was evidently eating at Stark. He had questions. He tried to suppress the surmounting number of them by pushing them away, but silence and nervous energy was giving rise to weakness.

He looked the man in the eyes.

"Yes, Captain?" Wade cocked half of a crooked little smile. His mask was between his hands. He wrung it carefully, feeling the material with gloved hands.

"How much firepower are you exactly packing there, soldier?"

"Two desert eagles...50 cals..." Wade watched Steve's expression evenly as he pointed towards his two pistols strapped to each leg, " ...AK-47..." He pointed by his side, "...and my swords." He cleared his throat after a moment, "Don't worry too much, gum drop, the AK's just for safe measures. I'll leave it here." He flashed a little smile but it faded as instantly as it had appeared.

Tony folded his arms, "Well. I'm at ease. But what's the plan for when we land, Rambo?"

"Well, _shit_. I dunno. He's _your_ friend. I figured you'd come up with all of that. I found him for you and I'll take the hits if he goes berserk, but I'm not the guy with the plans. I'm the guy who _looks_ like he's got the plans."

Tony rubbed his chin, "Ok, fair enough. But I doubt just walking up to him will work."

"But we can't force him into anything either." Steve replied with a warning tone in his voice, pointing an accusing finger towards Tony.

"So," Hawkeye begun, surveying the crossbow within his hands for a moment before looking up, "..we need get him to talk _without_ running away. And that could potentially happen if any of us show up. Especially if _all_ of us show up...he might feel ambushed."

"...Wilson should talk to him first."

Wade looked to Natasha, though all he could see was the back of her red curled hair and her thin long gloved fingers on the control panels of the plane, "Wait, what? Woah, woah: look, I don't even know the guy and what do you want me to even say?"

"You're a trained covert op and you don't know how to manipulate?" Tony snorted, "Tell me something I can believe here, Wade."

Tony leaned in on the edge of his seat, pulling his red case out from beneath his seat and opened it, looking at the shining exterior shell of his suit. A gold tint took over his face with the sun's early rays of light reflecting off the metallic shell , "I think you might be a little _too_ good, Wade."

Tony looked up, a dangerous insinuation in his eyes.

Wade caught it, half-smirking, a laugh on his lips.

 _"Yeah. I guess that could be true."_

* * *

"So, Wade."

Wade looked to Tony who stole his gaze from the squalid beach they were riding alongside. The topless, doorless, windowless Jeep left them vulnerable and bare to the elements: but not just that. It left them vulnerable to the smells. Wade remembered this smell. The smell of poverty and hopelessness. Though there were no beaches, he remembered this smell in the small Russian town he'd been assigned to more than three years ago.

He wrung his mask in his hands.

"Yes, Mechanico! I am here!"

"What's with the suit?"

Wade maintained his serene expression, his infallible smirk and light-hearted gaze but ended up tilting his head and sighing, looking from him back out the beach, "Look, I already told you: I was in special forces." He turned back, "It was the tactical grade equipment required by all in my division. Won't get into the boring details of it all but...it's just like my uniform now. Like Stevie Wonder, the bird and the spider. ...That sounds like an album name doesn't it?"

"So why does Fury want you in your uniform?" Tony asked quickly, ignoring his attempt to change the subject with hard unwavering eyes.

Wade gave him an incredulous look, "You are a _hard nut_ to _crack_. Damn! Fury wants things kept in order. You know him. He wants me in uniform like you guys, alright? Look: Steve Rogers gets into uniform and he's the revered _Captain America_. I get into uniform and I'm the _feared_ Agent Deadpool. And before you ask, Mr. Twenty Questions, yes, Agent Deadpool. Kind of a codename. Ever heard of one? Like...I dunno...Blackwidow? Hawkeye? We're kinda similar in a way, me and those two. The government is very uncreative. I may not have been a SHIELD agent exactly, but that doesn't mean they don't run shit the same way."

Tony smiled slyly, looking to him testing eyes. Wade smiled back at him, waiting for his next words to exit his mouth. He could feel his skin beginning to crawl beneath the dark grey spandex.

"Know what I'm going to ask next?"

"I know I'm not answering until you've finished your brussel sprouts, mister." Wade hissed, danger written in his eyes and his hands furiously testing the elasticity of his mask, "I'm gonna get your little friend and deliver him to you in a nice little bow and I'll be out of your hair. Alright?"

Tony watched him evenly, his smile widening "Did I push a button?"

Wade turned from him and slid the mask over his head, "No. You'd be dead if you pushed a button, bro." Wade laughed, "You've only begun to _annoy_ me." Wade leaned forward, "Stop here, good driver!"

Wade cleared his throat, eyes set on Hawkeye who'd taken control of the vehicle at the landing site thirty minutes prior. Both arms resting on the passenger and drivers seats, head directly between the two, he looked from Natasha with a wink, to Hawkeye, "Alright, buddy, follow me real slow-like. I'm gonna direct you through some woods and when we get towards the edge of 'em, you're gonna just keep outta sight. Coolio?"

"No problem." Hawkeye replied, giving a single nod in affirmation as Wade jumped from the Jeep and sped towards the front. At the brink of the forest, in the thick of the brush, Wade carefully removed both katanas from his body.

Before him, lush green trees condensed into a maze of foliage. The recent rain created a thick humidity that hung in the air like clouds. Surrounding him, was the entrance to his only cure. Beyond those trees, on the other side, would be a secluded shack where the only man who could save him resided.

"It's go time."

* * *

Another shorter chapter, but I wanted to leave it off here...next chapter Bruce will finally enter the scene.


	6. Like Me

**6**

* * *

Wade froze against the edge of the bush, his eyes narrowing behind the smoke colored mask, watching with increasing suspicion at the little cabin, a light dimmed in the window, the curtains were half-drawn.

Situated against a small beach, a little town in the far distance against the base of a ridge of mountains, the cabin initially appeared to be a relaxing escape. The exact thing anyone would assume Bruce wanted and yes, this was true...but...

Wade reached for his thigh-holster, unlatching it slowly and gripped the gun within his hand without removing it from it's nest.

"Looks like we might have a little company..." Wade whispered in a low tone.

"How can you tell? Did you see someone?" Steve asked, leaning forward and searching the premises.

"Mud on the grass blades near the door in the shape of about six foot prints. Fresh, so it's not likely to came from a single person. One candle is lit. Bruce always had the whole house lit with those smelly candles like it was fucking Thanksgiving and he was expecting company. The curtains too, good indicator someone's got Bruce hostage in there: He never closed 'em...Well, if I give you like a signal, ya' know, a screaming noise or something? Yeah, just try get there as soon as godly possible. BRB loserz."

Hawkeye gave him an incredulous look, "Hey, wait a second, what's the plan?"

"Plan?" Deadpool gave a snort, "Maybe you didn't just hear me say be right back? Don't kill my cool exits 'cuz now I have to make up for it with a _different_ cool exit. Damn it."

Wade emerged from the bushes with a sigh. He looked to the house for a moment, cocking his head and felt around his utility belt for a moment before finally nodding his head once, "Right, ok...It's time to kick some ass."

Walking with a sort of forced dancing, moving his shoulder from left to right and snapping his fingers by his sides, Wade made his way inch by subtle inch, closer towards the house.

"Dum dum dah dah dum dum cha duh duh dum da duh dum...As he came into the window...It was the sound of a crescendo..Uh..He came into her apartment...He left the bloodstains on the carpet..uh..She ran underneath the table...he could see she was unable...So she ran into the bedroom. She was struck down, it was her doom."

Wade struck a pose with his hands on his belt and did a turn towards the others giving them a nod and ignoring the expressions he was currently receiving.

"Brucie, are you ok? So, are you ok, are you ok, Brucie? Brucie, are you ok? So, Brucie, are you ok, are ok Brucie? Brucie are you ok? Will you tell us that you're ok? Ah. You've been hit by..." He clapped twice, "Struck by..." and then twice more, "...a smooth criminal!"

Wade stopped suddenly. Stopping in his tracks just outside the door, staring at the wood with a steady glare.

A wooden door, staring back at him...

The music in his head cut off.

A million miles away, a thousand years in the past, he remembered distantly...a wooden door. This wooden door here, the enemy on the other side and he could repress the smile tugging at his lips. Ironic. How fitting it'd be that in the mess that was his memories something like a wooden door, so plain and simple, would grab a slimy chunk of his past out of the messy tank of liquid brains.

After the experiments...well. It was easy to imagine the toll it'd taken on the little synapses in the ol' grey matter, the little memories that didn't help him survive were discarded and put into a treasure trove of meaninglessness.

And now, right before he was about to storm, raid, massacre, kill, whatever needed...something was unearthed.

A wooden door. A late night. Exhaustion.

He almost removed his hand from the pistol on his thigh when the door busted open and a gun appeared in the thin crack, "Get away! Get away or we shoot!"A thick accent suggested.

Wade gave a more genuine smile this time.

"Do we have a Michael Jackson fan here? Allow me to perform for you, the song of you and your people...You better run, you better do what you can, don't want to see no blood, don't be a macho man. You wanna be tough, better do what you can." Wade moved his hands slowly towards his back, "So beat it. But you want to be bad, so beat it. But you wanna be bad. Just beat it, _beat it_ , beat it, _beat it_! No one wants to be defeated. Showin' how funky and strong is your fight. It doesn't matter who's wrong or right. Just beat it, just beat it. Just beat it."

The man's finger rested a little heavier against the trigger, whispering in another language to a man behind himself, "Uh...uh _name_ yourself."

"Name myself? Ok, I name myself _Ryan_. Now, I just have to come up with an alliteration of some kind for it to be an _official_ name...Reyes? Reyn-?"

"Why you're here, Ryan?"

"Oh, you misunderstand my little friend. My name isn't really Ryan. Hah, classic. Alright, this is how it's going to work. You're going to come with your hands raised. Reach for the sky, got it partner?"

The man's hands shook, the gun rattling against the gold rings lining his spidery fingers. "Wha-? Wha-?"

"Gun...down...?"

"N-no. No, I-..." His voice returned to whispers and arguments arose within the cabin. In a foreign language Wade recognized the sense of urgency escalating in their voices. He narrowed his gaze.

"Hey amigo!"

The finger pressed against the trigger in a moment of panic, the cry of bullets sliced the air, the rattle prattle of the gun clamored against the metallic hands of the shooter and Wade, within seconds had his swords within his hands, at the ready, moving them skillfully through the air in a waving motion creating a silver barrier. Only one managed to infiltrate his fortress and grazed against his shoulder.

"Woah, buddy!" Wade yelled, "Hey, let's take a second to-"

The man emerged from the door in a tripod stance, arms at his sides, gun pushing forward and back again as the bullets whizzed past his head and clanged against his swords.

"Alright. You wanna dance? Let's _dance_ , amigo." Wade gave a smile, "Ya' can't shoot forever! You're gonna run out at some point, ya' _know_."

"I plan on kill you before!" The boy, no more than twenty, screamed over the whizzing and clanging of the metal beast spitting out the fiery projectiles.

Wade snorted.

"You'd be doing both of us a favor." He murmured with a little laugh on his lips watching the man squint his eyes in exasperation, "Music to my ears, pal...music to my ears..."

After a few moments and three bullet grazes later, the gun quieted down to a low rumble and the man stood, looking back at the other occupants who had yet to reveal themselves from the walls of the cabin.

"Now play that funky music, white boy, play that funky music right..." Wade said in the silence that ensued, lowering his swords to his sides, "...lay down the boogie and play that funky music 'till you _die_..."

The man dropped the gun, and rose his hands into the air.

"Come out." Wade ordered, his voice deathly.

"What'chu going to do...?" The man whispered, moving slowly out into the setting sunlight. He emerged from the door with nervous breaths and shaking arms.

"Get down on it." Wade replied.

"What?"

"How you gonna do it if you really don't wanna dance? By standing on the wall?"

"Wha-?"

"Get'cha back up on the wall!

He threw himself against the exterior of the cabin with both hands raised his chest heaving in and out. His complexion was riddled with sores but his eyes told him he was young. Hair black as coal, greasy, and long overdue for a trim. His body was like a rail, bones protruding through his grimy skin casing. Wade recognized this. He knew drug addicts when he saw them.

"What is it you're looking for? Some nice hot pain pills? Huh? Some downers? Some uppers? What is it?"

"You crazy man."

"Crazy? Nah, I don't think so. _You're_ the crazy one. I'm not even trying to kill _you_ but _you're_ the scared one? What're you scared of...?" Wade looked for a name on him, "Name, gimme a name."

"Name. Name is Po-Cheng."

"Po-Cheng? Your mama is so poor she couldn't afford the other O and the R? No...that wouldn't make sense because she could afford the Cheng part...Well, anyway, Po. We should be celebrating. Or, I should be anyway."

"Sorry? Sorry?"

"Celebrating, Po! Celebrate good times, c'mon! Celebration! Let's all celebrate and have a good time. It's time to come together. It's up to you, what's your pleasure? Everyone around the world! C'mon! Yahoo! It's a celebration! No? Man, these bands are just really flying past you, right over your head, Po. I've tried just about every decade on you. Well. Three. _Anywho_. You, Po. You are going to go in..." Wade pointed inside, "...and get the rest of your _friends_ out.." Wade pointed to the ground, "...here. Understand?"

"Out here." Po repeated, "Others."

"Yes. Now, go get them or I will cut your head clean off your body. Then we'll have a good time." Wade moved his body rhythmically, clapping at a 2-4 beat, "We're gonna have a good time tonight. Let's celebrate. It's alright... _Celebrate_ good times, _c'mon_! _Now,_ Po. I am waiting!"

Po ran from his spot, back into the house and after a moment or so, a few others emerged, weaponless, in ragged clothes and looking like nothing but bags of skin and bones.

Drug addicts looking for something to cash in or use. Nothing much more than that. Wade gave a small sigh and they raised their hands, ducking their heads in fear, moving towards him slowly.

"Down! On the ground! You _loathsome_ pigs..? I dunno, I'm not really good with-"

They fell onto their knees.

"Please? Please?" They pleaded through tears and sobs, streaking their faces and leaving their eyes raw.

Wade was almost about to laugh. The way these boys cried after just threatning him with all their fire power. Thinking they could take him on. They probably thought they could take the world just about five minutes prior but...

That was it, wasn't it? It wasn't really funny.

And the dark, awful truth was that he had an urge to just end their lives right there and then. It wasn't that he wanted to: not particularly. They pissed him off for a few seconds, but they were just drugged up kids. He got it. He knew. Growing up in Taiwan? He grew up in Canada and he used a number of times, he couldn't imagine living here and...? But it was his instinct. Like an animal, it was innate him now to kill the witnesses, all witnesses. It didn't matter who or what they were. Nothing could be sacrificed.

But that's what he left...wasn't it? He left that for a reason...right?

The days before, wearing this suit, he remembered the rules. The rules ingrained in his head. The rules that kept him alive. The rules that kept him on track and half sane...

A sick feeling rose in his stomach looking at them. He swallowed and surfaced back to reality.

"Alright guys...Now, what have we learned here today?..."

Silence gave him the reply. He gave a sigh and rolled his eyes, jutting his thumb towards the forest.

"Beat it!"

They looked to him with confusion.

He pointed to his direct left, " _Go!_ Run you little fuckers!"

They got to their feet quickly, running as fast as their feet would allow them, back into the woods.

Wade looked again to the cabin. The door was ajar, the room was dark, there was silence. A dark feeling filled Wade's stomach instantly but he moved into the cabin with determined, quick steps. No hesitation. Dead or alive, he needed to know. His mission. It was his mission.

He looked into the small two room cabin. There sitting on the floor against a wall towards the back was a man he instantly recognized as the one he was looking for. A little worse for wear, scruffier than he remembered seeing in the photographs and videos, but overall unharmed.

He was bound by rope, gagged with a rag, and moving back and forth rapidly as if to garner his attention.

"I'ma comin', I'ma comin'." Wade replied replacing his swords onto his back and moving across the musty room, "What happened Brucie Bruce?"

He gave him a confused look and into the gag, Wade would guess he asked _'what?'_ but he couldn't be sure. He removed the rag, crouched down before him and gave a sigh, "Well. Bruce. It might be just as well that we met like this. My name is Wade Wilson, also known as Agent Deadpool. I'm here to bring you back to New York where the scum of the Earth reside, and out of...this hell hole...where the even worse scum reside."

Bruce swallowed and gave a sordid sort of laugh, "And who hired you to do _that_?"

"You're familiar with Nick Fury, right? Yeah... That guy."

Bruce's smile faded, his brow furrowing, "And why would he do that?"

"Because the Avengers kinda might sorta _need_ you."

Bruce shook his head, "No, look, they can handle it. Could you just untie me please?"

"It's a mass terrorist group. They've been forming for close to a decade now...and they plan on using bio warfare so...you know...the people back home and here would really probably appreciate it if you could hop on board...?"

Bruce's lips fell flat, his eyes hardening.

"...bio warfare?...So, what, they've got a strain of smallpox? Gonna use anthrax again? The CDC can handle this one, you really don't need m-"

"Think more along the lines of Agent Orange...but...worse...Much worse."

Bruce's mouth parted, eyes searching Wade's masked face for any form of deception, "...I-...I don't kn-"

"Bud. They can't do this without you. These guys are messing with some super advanced DNA recombination...They've got a doctor working for them...names Killebrew...Word is he's mass-producing these super soldiers..."

"...Like Steve..." Bruce whispered.

"No, worse." Wade replied, his voice dark, "Like me..."


	7. Tongzhi

**6**

* * *

Bruce looked at him for a moment.

The man before him who said his name was Wade, was apparently also know as Agent Deadpool. Though his demeanor certainly didn't match a SHIELD agent, or he should say a _former_ SHIELD agent, it was what he had deduced from what he'd said so far. It did however, all seem very skewed.

The look in his eyes, partly concealed behind the dust in the air and the maladjusted mask on his face, appeared urgent, but yet still...he looked almost whimsical. Demure in his own way, yet ready to strike.

Like me, he said. Worse, he said. His brain wheeled around for a moment. Was this man attempting to say he was also somehow...genetically modified? Super-soldier crafted? Or was he merely joking? His tone didn't lead him to believe he was joking.

"What do you mean?"

Wade stared into his eyes for only a second before there was a crack and a thunderous roll of danger sounding from outside the small cabin.

Tony appeared, his body contained in it's metallic structure,"Could we speed this up? We've got some friends here, _really_ anxious to see us."

"Tony?"

"Yeah, yeah. We got the gang all here, yadda yadda bluh." Wade replied quickly, grabbing his forearms and pulling him by the shoulders into a standing position. Wade reached for one of his swords and soon, Bruce found his arms free of the rope restraints.

"Wait, everyone's- Wade? Wade, wait up!" Bruce chased after the man to the doorway when he found the man's hands against his chest, pushing him back into the house.

"Wait here. We'll explain in a sec. Alrighty tighty? BRB, Brucie-boo."

"Hey, wait a second!" Bruce called as the man bolted through the doorway. Moving forward quickly, he exited out into the front portion of the large field that surrounded his house, his boots crunching against dead grass and mud puddles. Looking out to his immediate right, he found both Steve and Tony side by side at the front of a large offense.

He could hear the voice of the new recruitment vaguely in the distance as he made his way by their side.

He moved quickly towards the small group that was gathering. His brain was churning for some kind of decision, a final answer that he could give that wouldn't involve him in any of it. But he couldn't...

If what _"Agent Deadpool"_ had said was true, they'd need him.

He wasn't cocky, but he knew it was true that he was the best bio-organic chemist any government could ask for, even if it wasn't what he held a degree in. Wasn't it his duty then to give a helping-. No, there was always a second best and they couldn't be that much worse than-. No. That wasn't right either. How could he live with himself knowing every death would be his fault? How could he go on knowing he could've prevented it all? No, he couldn't. All he'd ever wanted to do was help and now...

What he'd previously thought was a simple well-meaning goal had become something so distorted and complicated...he wasn't sure what was right and wrong.

He gave a sigh reaching Tony's side who looked to him with a thumbs up, "Nice to see you, Bruce. And I'd hug you, but we've got a situation here. Take the right s-?"

"No, wait a second." Bruce looked to the others who'd begun to form a small offense before the oncoming mob,"Look, I've dealt with these guys before. Their a rebel group just looking to stir up some trouble. They're quick to piss off, but I might just be able to talk to them and work out some kind of-"

"Hey _dumbfucks_!"

Bruce paled, snapping his neck in the direction of the voice.

"Prepare yourself..." Wade warned lowly in a singing tone, "...You know it's a must..." He took a step forward and raised his voice, "Gotta have a friend in _Jesus_!"

"Wade, no!"

Wade froze at the voice.

No?

 _No._

He could hear it so clearly ringing in his head, like an echo banging around inside a trapped room, sealed closed...

 _"Wade, no!"_

A man, yelling to- No...no, a man yelling _at_ him. But who was it? Who-...Oh.

It was a man that was beginning to take shape in his mind...A man he hadn't thought about in years. He had been trained to refocus his energies on his targets and to eliminate distractions like _him_. Or really, the distraction wasn't _him_ but the feeling it stirred inside his guts, making them squirm and slither up his throat like a fat sausage squeezing through it's casing, exploding out his mouth in hot bile.

 _No._

Like a trained soldier, the one he was, he froze at the word, stopped in his tracks...but only for a moment.

He turned back to Bruce and gave him half a smile, "Look, it'll be two shakes of a Hulk's tai-"

"Nin Hao!"

Wade snapped his head back to the man standing at the front of the group, below average in height and thin, but compensated these setbacks in firepower. Strapped onto his body were four automatics and both legs were lined with pistols, his back carrying two large swords. He took a drag on his cigarette which sat firmly between his pointer and index fingers, letting the smoke trail up and around his face.

"He's saying hello..." Bruce provided with a sigh, his hand in his hair, "I...I'm a little rusty with my mandarin, but I can tell you that he's _angry_."

"Wade, step back." Steve warned.

"Take it easy, kick back, soak up the beautiful sewage infested grotesque atmosphere of this lovely "turd" world countryside and allow _me_ to deal with the _pests-_."

"Wade, this is an order. You are a part of _our_ team now and you _will_ step back, soldier, do you understand me?"

Wade's hand, propped against his pistol, lowered. His eyes narrowed, looking at the mud-soaked grass with distaste. A sickening feeling rose inside of him as he realized something...

The truth was, half of him, the conditioned half of himself, reacted without even really processing the request. His body acted on trained command, and like the good pet dog he was, he'd literally stepped backwards without so much as a moment to react out of his own free will.

The other part of himself wanted to finish those punk kids, waste 'em and show them what real skill was, what real power was, what real _fear_ was.

He shut his eyes, lowering his head, swallowing down his pride, "Sir, yes sir." He mumbled sarcastically, " _Captain_."

"Bruce." Steve begun, looking from the small rebel army looking particularly impatient and then back to Bruce, "Tell them we mean them _no_ harm and that..we were just leaving."

Bruce shrugged a little and gave a sigh, "I'll do my best...Wǒmen...y-yah...yāoqiú _hépíng._ (We ask for _peace_ )." Bruce started shakily, clearing his throat, "Qǐng... ràng wǒmen líkāi (Please...let us leave)."

"Shuí shì xiǎo gèzi de dà zuǐbā? (Who is the little man with the big mouth?)"

"Méi rén- (Nobody-)"

"Wade." Wade replied lowly, "Wǒ de míngzì shì Wade Wilson. Xiànzài dào nǐle. (My name's Wade Wilson. Now it's your turn.)"

Bruce's eyes locked on Wade's, but they didn't return his stare, they were fixated on the man before them who eyed them suspiciously, sucking in the tar of his cigarette and smiling ironically behind the veil of smoke.

"Yami." He replied, "Wǒ shì yīgè gǔlǎo de bùluò de míngzì mìngmíng... Dàn...wǒ bù zǒu yóule, yīnwèi táiwā... rén jiào wǒ bié de dōngxī... Anito. Tāmen jiào wǒ Anito. Sǐzhě de è líng... Zǔhé zài yīqǐ... Shā (I am named after an ancient tribe... However... I don't go by that anymore... the people of Taiwan...they call me something else... Anito. They call me Anito. They're the evil spirits of the dead which come together...to kill.)"

"Yeah?" Wade laughed a little to himself, "Well, _Anita Ward_...Rénmen jiào wǒ Deadpool.Wǒ de míngzì de yìsi shì fēicháng lèisì de dōngxī..." (Some call me Deadpool...And my name means something very similar...)"

Anito gave a long pause, searching his face with a long wispy smile on his face, "Your Chinese is impressive." He said finally with a laugh in his voice, "Why on Earth would a stupid little man like you be so well-versed in a beautiful language such as ours?"

Wade folded his arms in a defensive manner.

"Oh yeah, well...why is it a mud-stained... _ragamuffin..._ nose-picker-eater like you would know English? Huh?"

Anito frowned, "Because your people insist on invading my land. I have asked Dr. Banner three times already to leave this place. My people don't require his services _any_ longer."

"Anito, your people were _sick_ and-"

"They didn't need you! We are a strong people!" Anito glared towards Bruce and met Wade's eyes again, "Despite your foolish outfit and your offensiveness, I do admire your choice in weaponry. Your katanas...please, show me. I am an admirer."

Wade gave him half a smile, "If I take 'em out, it means I'm going to use them."

"I would only hope so, _tongzhi._ (man who has the same ambition as myself/comrade)"

Wade smirked, "And I'll use 'em on _you,_ buddy."

"Please." Anito looked him in the eyes, bringing the cigarette out from between his lips again blowing a puff of smoke into the darkening sky.

Clouds were building, thick grey puffs that blocked all rays of light.

Wade pulled the two swords from his back slowly in a crisscross fashion, his eyes dead set into his.

"But, tongzhi, do take off that mask. You should fight with honor. Look me in the eyes. I am your enemy, yes?"

"I don't have honor." Wade whispered releasing the swords from their confines and bringing them to his sides quickly, a wave of men surrounded Anito within seconds, "I just have a target."

"Alright, Tony, you take the guys to the-" Steve begun but was swiftly interrupted.

"No," Wade replied, "My job's to protect you guys, and even though they're packing a helluva lotta ammo, they're clumsy, untrained nerds. You guys get back to the car. I'll be there in-"

"Wilson," Steve was firm, his eyes set on the men readying themselves, "...there used to be a saying. No man left behind. Remember that?"

"...Back in my unit we each had a _job_. My _job_ was to _be_ the man left behind."

Steve met Wade's eyes.

"We don't work that way." He shook his head, "Not _this_ unit."

Wade rolled his eyes, "Look, just go-"

"Avengers!" Steve yelled and it was all it took.

Wordlessly, the plan came clear to each of them: subdue the enemy in any way you can or have to.

Wade watched momentarily with a frown as gunfire sounded into the air.

What could he do with all six of them there? Tony, the golden red shining metallic android was fighting in a melee fashion. Like gigantic brass kuckles the small Taiwanese boys couldn't withstand the impact of his fists or the pulsating palm stun gun. Neither could they hold up against Thor's heavy hammer, the Captain's gigantic shield, Widow's knife-sharp hits, the Hawk's poison arrows, or the transformed Dr. Banner's thunderous slamming monkey fists.

Wade watched them with a micro-gram of interest, watching as they took on each side of the group of men, working towards the middle where Anito would lie, smoking, puffing casually on his cigarette. Without a single word, they knew where the others were, what to do...

Wade stuck his lower lip out from beneath his mask and shrugged a little himself, moving in closer towards the remaining men, stabbing his swords through two men simultaneously and then three successively.

Compared to the men he'd seen earlier, these men were dressed militarily, hair cleaner but still caked with grease, eyes coherent. More than likely, these were just as much those drug addict's enemies as they were his. He half wished he'd given them pill bottles.

God, they probably needed them.

Poor slobs.

He mindlessly killed whatever breathing husk dared enter his line of sight until there were no more and standing among the dead was Anito, cigarette in his mouth, though obviously off-put by the results.

"How's that? Now all of your men are dead." Wade said in the thick of the silence.

"All of them? No, this is far from all of them. My best? Yes. Yes, they were, unfortunately, my best. How humiliating for them, yes? The way they fought...disgraceful. But, they were only a three months into their training. You see, I'm a relatively new organization."

"You're through."

"I realize and respect greatness when I see it..." Anito whispered, throwing his cigarette to the ground beside himself, "...but allow me a challenge?"

"I think this a challenge enough, Anito." Steve said, eyebrows raised, "It's seven to one."

"This isn't a challenge, this is...how do you say it? Suicide." Anito replied with a smile, "I want to fight Wilson, and Wilson only. No guns. We'll fight like men were intended to."

"With fists?"

"No. Swords. With tools built for honorable battle, tongzhi."

Wade looked intently into his deep pock marked skin, into his black ink-well eyes, into his yellow nicotine-stained lips and nodded in a form of resolution, pulling his guns from his holsters, "We can do this however you want to Jackie Chan, we'll chock it up to a dead man's final request."

"...And you may rationalize it however you want to."

Wade stepped closer, guns left behind in the dirt as Anito did the same, moving in casually with two swords now equipped in his hands.

Rain drops, heavy and fat fell to the earth, slapping and rolling down suits, bodies, removing the blood and allowing it to soak into the Earth. Wade raised his swords to the ready.

"Remove the mask. Let me see your face."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because."

"That's a fallacy."

"I see we have an English major."

"No, just an educated man."

Wade looked him in the eyes again, through the wall of rain that was forming he could see the determination. Though removing the mask would pose no issue as far as the fight would go, Wade felt irked at the very thought of it. It was code, rule, and law in his previous unit to never remove his mask in a fight. As Agent Deadpool, never once in battle, had he shown his face to the enemy. That could mean losing everything but-...

...but that was years ago.

Rules like that were no longer a part of him, or no...that was a lie. They _shouldn't_ have been a part of him. They no longer had any _real_ control of him. No. That was a lie too. They were ingrained in him and at the drop of a hat, his training would kick back in like autopilot...Why not? It was the way he'd survived.

But he didn't have to let it control him now.

"What happened to my _last wish_ , tongzhi?"

He reached his left hand up to his mask slowly, lowering his head.

"Alright...fine."

He pulled the mask from his face, throwing it the ground beside him.

"How's that?" Wade asked, turning his head from side to side, "Good enough for you?"

"Look me in the eyes."

Wade's eyes locked on his for an uncomfortable twenty-two seconds before the man nodded and raised his swords, mimicking Wade's stance like a mirror.

"You're trained well." Anito said as they both made their way closer to the other, walking sideways once within arm's reach, "...how is it that an American is trained so well in the art?"

"Well, there's a lot you have to sacrifice, Anito." With perfect timing, Anito blocked his oncoming strike. He grunted through his words, "..gotta...give up weekends...holidays...pride _._.. _happiness_...months of your life in trade for constant...miserable...-" Again, his strike was blocked, "... _pain_."

"Your teacher was...ungh...difficult." Anito struck back, Wade blocking it with equal precision, "But it paid well."

"My teacher...was an asshole."

"Such disrespect!" Anito struck harder, but still Wade's defense matched him.

"No, what was... _disrespect..._ was _killing_ the dickhead."

"Why would you ever...do such a...thing?"

"It was my... _mission_...he was my... _target."_

Anito's swords clashed against his own, making their way down the length of Wade's swords.

"You never kill...the man who taught you...He took time to...perfect you...make you what you...are."

"He didn't do it for...ungh...reasons more than getting something...back in return...All he wanted was...a promotion...some notoriety... and a pay che-...rngh!"

"Why do you do anything you ever do, tongzhi? There is always a motive for...something to be given back...in return... Money, fame, love. You never do it...for _no_ reason. We humans...we always _want_ something...Even you. Right now. Why protect them? You are...ungh... _just_ like your teacher."

Wade paused, only for a millisecond, his face screwing up in detest and his eyes narrowing in on him, it was only momentary, but Anito saw it and struck, in his weakest moment, during his single moment of repose, he slammed his two swords deep inside his guts. Blood sprayed like perfume in the air, floating on the breeze, but poured down his back like a waterfall.

"Shit." Tony whispered, "No way is he going to be able to..." He swallowed, watching Wade's body go stiff.

"God damn it!" Wade screamed, "Fuck _you_ buddy! Christ almighty." Anito pulled his swords out from his abdomen and Wade groaned, "Shit..you mother-..." He seethed, his eyes closing against the brunt of the pain, feeling his body begin to sway with the loss of blood, "...mother-..."

"Let go of this world, _Deadpool,_ it's your time now. It's your time to accept it.. accept defeat...and dea-..." Anito swallowed his voice faltering, his mouth gaping, his swords dropping from both hands, "Wha-...?"

He watched as the skin beneath the suit formed finger-like spindles, reaching out like plants to touch the others on the opposite side of the wound until they'd formed a mesh-like covering. The bleeding was contained, the skin coming together and melding until it was one again.

Not even so much as a scar for a reminder remained. Just blood.

"What are you?" Anito looked him in his smirking eyes, in his smiling mouth, in his sweat-beaded forehead as raindrops washed him of his blood stains and made him clean.

"...A dishonorable, no good, degenerate regenerate. What else?"

"Guàiwù...(monster)" Anito whispered, "Guàiwù!"

Within seconds, Anito found himself on the floor, blood in his mouth, eyes closing, his final view of the world being the frowning face of Wade Wilson, the final words he would ever hear would be in a whispering snarl, beside his ear, full of hatred.

"Fuck you."

* * *

 _Woah, leaving off kind of heavy here, but...we'll transition into something happier!_

 _Thanks for reading, reviewing is MUCH appreciated so please do it if you've got two secs to spare! Love love love any feedback._

 _Also! You guys know you can make suggestions right?_

 _This includes but isn't limited to the following:_

 ** _-Have a bad ass fight in mind? Suggest it!_**

 ** _-Want something explained that I haven't explained yet? (Ex:...his origin story...) You may ask! _**

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 ** _-Any ideas at all? Suggest away!_**

 _Please do the above in the review section._

 _Thanks guys!_


	8. Big Fat Liar

**8**

* * *

Wade stared into the water jets from behind the powerful spray, his eyes studying the shower head, but consciously, his thoughts were elsewhere.

 _"So...you don't mind if I ask where you learned Chinese, do you?"_

 _The ride back had been uncomfortably silent. Filled most with Wade sticking his fingers through holes in suit and Bruce staring at the floor. No one was sure what to exactly say, or if there was anything to be said at all._

 _But the time for that, as everyone could feel, was not now._

 _Natasha once again had volunteered to fly the plane back home, most likely so as not to be stuck in the back with Bruce, but even more likely because she needed a menial task to keep her composure._

 _Tony texted Pepper periodically, Hawkeye ventured up to Natasha eventually and Steve sat in a position that indicated he was probably thinking deeply on something. If Steve's reaction to Bruce's question was any indication to what it was he was thinking, Wade had a good idea. He looked up quickly, watching Wade's expression and eyes go from Bruce to himself and then back to Bruce._

 _"You learn a thing or two in special forces school. Sometimes those things stick with you..." His voice grew darker, "...Especially when your life depends on it...I used it as a lingua franca a lot of times...between myself and base. I couldn't risk speaking in English, you know."_

 _"Sounds like you were in the middle of some pretty risky situations..." Steve said, leaning forwards, eyes catching Wade's._

 _"Yeah." Wade nodded, "Yeah, I've got some experience under my belt...that's for sure..."_

 _"So why'd you leave it?" Tony asked, his voice holding no accusation, no insinuations...just curiosity. He looked up from his cellphone, all sarcasm gone, all humor drained. It was a plain and simple question._

 _But the answer...wasn't._

 _"Why'd I leave?" Wade paused rubbing his hands together, looking down at the small incision in his military-grade gloves, staring at the gauze he could see beneath, speckled and dotted with blood seeping from the melting skin under it, "...Well, I guess you could say my time was just up. It was...time for me to move on. I had other opportunities and I took them..."_

Half truths. It had been his go-to strategy from the beginning. Not just the beginning of his relationship with the Avengers, but since the beginning of...life as he knew it.

He could remember, ten or eleven years old, in the fifth grade and his teacher asked him if his Dad was showing up for the Father's Day brunch on Friday...she needed an answer after all, it was Wednesday. He'd been avoiding filling out the forms.

He told her "probably not because he probably can't make it. My mom said to just mark it no, Mrs. Callahan."

And it was true. He probably couldn't make it considering he'd left three years ago and hadn't even called since. Not a letter...nothing.

So hey, it wasn't a lie, was it?

Sometimes things stick with you...especially when they help you survive.

Wade pulled at the wrapping around his hand and fearfully pulled it away. He could see already that whatever _it_ was had spread even further up his arm, by at least two inches.

He pulled away the strips and looked at the mottled twisted skin, gnarled and ugly looking back at him. These sections that looked like exposed muscle were firmly attached to him in comparison to the healthier skin above that slid with a slimy bloody trail off of himself.

He hesitantly slid it beneath the jets and hissed to himself as the hot water hit the red premature skin, "Damn it...Alright. No big deal, Wade." He withdrew his hand, "...Friday nights and the light are _low..._ looking out for a place to _go_..." He gave a sigh, whispering, "...you are the dancing queen...young and sweet, only seventeen...Dancing queen, feel the beat from the tambourine..." He pulled his hand against himself and gave a low laugh, "This is pitiful, isn't it...?"

He looked down at what had once only been an affected hand to the skin peeling off just above his wrist and frowned.

"...Maybe it's time I start telling the _full_ truth, eh?..." He gave another sigh and dipped his head beneath the water, "...Or I'll have the skin of an oak tree..." He pulled himself from the water, "Or, worse...I might..."

He swallowed.

"...diggin' the dancing _queen_..."

* * *

Tony rubbed the back of his neck for just a second before rolling his eyes at his own stupidity and rapped his hand against the door three times. Half of him was fearful of what would greet him. Not that he was really scared of him, but he couldn't imagine what he might be met with. What _did_ a guy like him do in his free time any-...No, he didn't want to know.

He could hear low music playing and it wasn't surprising he could hear some keyboard and funky bass playing. He figured if he looked through his Pandora (if he had one) he'd only find: 70s Funk, 70s Disco, 60s, 70s, and 80s Pop and maybe a small, gently frequented 90s hip/hop. He'd thought he heard him mumble some Vanilla Ice lyrics once in the plane ride back from Taiwan, but didn't really question it.

He'd been too busy thinking up the words he was about to say now.

The door opened after a few moments of some audible fumbling to reveal a half-toweled Wade, still dripping.

"Ooh, how you doin' baby?"

Tony raised an eyebrow.

"No, not you. The bow legged one...What's your name? Damn, _baby_ , that sounds _sexy_."

"Uh."

"You're packed and you're stacked!" Wade pointed towards his backside, "'Specially in the back, brother wanna thank your mother for a butt like that. Can I get some fries with that shake-shake bo-"

"Wade."

He smiled and then cleared his throat as though trying to maintain a straight face, "Sorry. Salt-N-Pepa marathon on my phone. Nice speakers by the way, way better than the ones I'm rocking at Casa de Wilson. I've got a Bose, but these, whatever they are, are like outta this world. I can hear 'em breathing between words sometimes. Kinda creepy, but I like it."

"Stark Sound, best audio system on the market."

"Yeah? I gotta get one. Save my pennies up. Hah...uh...So..did you need something?"

Tony gave half a smirk, "I just came over to express my disinterest in your taste of music and suggest something more along the lines of AC/DC...or Black Sabbath."

"Really? Because I like them alright too. Back in black, you know? To those who rock...right? American thighs and all that."

Tony fought against the small smile tugging at his lips, "...I came to say...nice...work, I guess? This is really Captain Broad-Stripes and Bright-Stars' job but, I figured I probably owed you it considering...I mighta been a little hard on you. But...in the end, you brought Bruce back and..." Tony extended his hand after a discontented sigh, "I'm not too good at apologies. Let's just shake hands?"

"No problemo, amigo." Wade took his hand with a genuine smile and a nod, "I kinda wanted...to say that I also _mighta_ lost my patience a _little_...I haven't worked with _people_ in a while, so my social skills are a _little_ rusty." He laughed.

"Well, you did great with Bruce...Whatever you said sure did convince him."

"Oh, uh..." Wade thought back to the conversation with discomfort, "...well, just the usual persuading stuff: The Avengers aren't The Avengers without you. There's impending doom, the Earth needs you. You know, just...kept it _honest_. Hah."

"Well, guess it worked. Hey, uh, ironic enough we order some Chinese take out. It'll be here in about ten, but I'm gonna start Sake bombing in five."

"Sounds like a plan! Haven't done a sake bomb since grade school! I'm just gonna get dressed and I'll be there."

"Alright, pal, but don't expect to beat my high score." Tony shared a single horizontal hand slap with Wade before moving back towards the elevator as Wade closed the door.

Wade looked from the dresser to the stereo and then to his partially wrapped arm he'd kept hidden behind the door.

"...Now to tell you I'm a big fat liar..."

He finished taping the bandages and then moved to the dresser where he'd stored his clothing. He grabbed a pair of jeans and a green t-shirt: the first two articles of clothing within hand's reach. He pulled each of these on quickly and made his way back to the bathroom to put away the Firt-Aid kit he'd left carelessly on the counter. He looked at his arm.

The bandages would be far more noticeable now and decided to grab a jacket from the dresser. He pulled the dark blue hoodie out and slunk into it quickly. Turning off the stereo.

"...but maybe not just yet..."

* * *

"I'm on fiiiire...I'm on fiiiiire...I'm on fiiiiire...I'm on fieeee-.. _.Fireball_."

Wade danced his way into the room, his mouth a large pearlescent gleaming grinning display. He shrugged his shoulders backwards, pointing towards the bar, "I knew my rent was gonna be late about a week ago, I worked my _ass_ off, but I still can't pay tho'. But I've got _just_ enough to get up in this club and-"

Heads turned, eyes squeezed tight, eyebrows pinched together.

Wade stopped, his arms freezing and falling down back to his sides, "...have me..a good time...?"

Tony was behind the bar, his back to him, drinking something clear and flat out of a glass. A bottle was opened but Wade couldn't tell what it was. His eyes went around the room looking for an answer.

"...Guys?"

"You are a traitor!" Thor yelled after a moment of silence, "No longer do I trust you and your serpentine ways!"

"Easy." Steve murmured, hand on his shoulder, "You said," Steve begun, louder, "You _said_ you didn't know anything." Steve said his anger evident but withheld.

Shit. He looked around once more time and looked to Bruce who quickly avoided his stare. Shit. He took in a breath of air. Survivor's Handbook Tip 434, keep calm even in the face of danger.

"About..?"

"You said to us, Wade, that you didn't know _anything_ about MARK. But you told _Bruce_ something different."

"No, I-"

"Stop lying!"

Wade bit down on his tongue, eyes dead set on Steve. The pinnacle of perfection and patriotism. He'd often run the differences in his head between him and himself during long missions with an abundance of solitude...the missions that sometimes got to him but rule 12 always reminded him of steps to take to ensure and maintain sanity in missions such as those. One was try comparing things. So after comparing apples to pears, chicken noodle to tomato soup, and Coca-Cola to Pepsi, he finally thought: Super Soliders.

Himself versus the Captain.

Then, in the forties, they'd had much stricter criteria for the super-soldier project. It was a difficult interview to say the least. But him? He was just what the government could get their hands on. He was just a host...and if the DNA recombination treatments and experiments worked it's magic like it should, bam, he was the next super soldier. The indestructible Agent Deadpool. It didn't matter who it was. it didn't matter if they'd been a criminal before or a pastor: so long as they signed a contract.

Then outfits...

Decked in the U.S flag...protected by a matching patriotic shield...

Decked in black and grey...rust red accents...protected by his swords...his guns...

The difference was the idealistic optimistic warheads of the 1940s and the realistic pessimistic military overlords of the present.

Captain America was what America _wanted._ He was the perfect role model...the perfect specimen...

But he, Wade Wilson, was what the _military needed_. He was the shadow that performed the unspeakable acts that people shielded their children from ever hearing about, reading about or seeing...but it was what had to be done...even if it wasn't glorious enough to dress him in the American flag.

Lying? Yeah. It was what he did best sometimes...it stuck with him...it's what had kept him alive...and sometimes...sane.

"It's time to tell the truth, Wade."

"...Alright..." Wade sighed, "Ok, look...I can explain." He put a hand behind his neck, looking around at the doubtful faces, "Seriously, I can explain. Just...give me a chance."

"We already did." Steve growled, "We gave you more than-"

"And we'll give'im one more...right Steve? Because we're the good guys." Tony grumbled from over his glass, turning around slowly, lowering his head into his hand.

Steve didn't have to look back to guess the expression on Tony's face. He folded his hands across his chest and moved slowly towards the couch, sitting uneasily, "Right..." He said, "...one more."

Tony, glass in hand, sat into an arm chair, leg across his knee.

The others, grudgingly slow, walked to the living area faces frowning and postured rigid, watching Wade carefully with cold dead glares.

Tony looked into his glass.

"Sit down." Steve said, his tone indicating death was imminent with belligerence, "And this time, you're going to tell the _truth._ "

Wade stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and moved to the empty chair. The same spot as before.

Everyone in their former locations, it was almost as though they'd picked up right from where they'd left off, with the only difference being that Bruce sat in Pepper's former seat. His eyes were questioning, curious but not accusatory...like hers.

 _"This conversation isn't over."_

Tony's words rung clear in his mind.

"Explain. Now." Steve broke the momentary silence and Wade looked up to him, eyebrows lowering and mouth forming into a frown.

"Ok. Look...last time we talked about MARK? It was my first time learning about them too.. Fury never told me anything about them before then...but later that night...he said I might want to try hopping on board for the long-haul. For taking out MARK with you guys...Look, I mean...think about it. Fury's going to try and convince me to hop on board because the more able-bodies he's got fighting against these guys, the more likely it is we'll win, right? So it makes sense. He's a salesman."

Wade looked around but got no response.

"...Well that's when he told me about Killebrew...Me and that guy have some history. So when he told me about him being a part of MARK, he wasn't withholding anything from you guys...he was just trying to give me incentive. It's really nothing important, I-"

"Who is he? This Killebrew? You told Bruce he was a doctor. Trying to create Super Soldiers...like you. I think that constitutes as _important_."

"Yeah...About that..." Wade trailed off for a moment and then gave a sigh, closing his eyes and digging his hands deeper into his pockets, when he opened them, he looked to Bruce, "I might've exaggerated a little. Basically, MARK has him captive...and they're _trying_ to get him to engineer them some super soldiers with the healing factor gene I have. Fury says he hasn't agreed to it _yet_ but...it's only a matter of time until he does. The second they offer him a payout that's worth something to him...he'll take it. I know this guy."

"How? How do you know him?" Natasha asked, legs crossed, arms folded, seemingly unconvinced.

"Killebrew? He...He's a self-serving waste of human flesh... He was the doctor in charge of the Weapon X Experimentation Program...and he's the guy who gave me my healing factor...

"Weapon X Experimentation Program? I've never heard of it..." Clint looked from Natasha who shook her head in equal confusion and then back to Wade who was staring at the floor, his eyes unable to catch anyone else's, "What is it?"

"What's Weapon X?..." Wade thought over the question for a moment, "...A _torture house_...It was _supposed_ to be...Yeah, It was _supposed_ to be a place where superheroes were created. _Mutates._ With simple _painless_ procedures. At least...that's what the brochure said...hah...yeah. It became like a chop shop for humans: most of the people there were either volunteers...or they got a death sentence and didn't have much to lose.."

"Which one were you?" Steve asked in the silence following Wade's word.

Steve recognized the look in Wade's eyes...he'd seen it before in men recounting battles to their superiors. And you couldn't fake that.

"...Me?...I was one of dead guys...Yeah...Cancer. Malignant tumors...spread to every organ possible. The doctor told me it was in my lungs, brain, prostate, ... my _balls_...Shit, I was..heh...I was just enlisting...had to go get the mandatory physical and that's when the doctor noticed something weird...like a freckle or a mole or something...It went off to testing and my girlfriend said it'd be nothing...Every night she told me not to worry...Not to _worry._ And when I finally got the call, I had a six month bill. That was it...just like that...I was dead. Out of options...It wasn't really that my life was worth much, but Vanessa, my girlfriend,... _she_ depended on me...So, I had to figure out something...I ran through it and treatments were just...too _expensive_ , not to mention _useless_...And what twenty-something year old guy has _life insurance?..._ But, then, all of a sudden, like some kind of sign from _God_ or something, I get an offer from my old recruiter about a week later: a way to get free and clear...Better. He said it was a _cure_. Not just a treatment: a _cure,_ ya know? And even _better_ : it was _free_. How could I say no to that?"

Wade leaned his arms against his legs, looking down to his socked feet in thought, "...Well...I was willing to believe anything I guess. I wasn't aware then that guys like me got treated like ten day old meat: the guys who were probably going to die anyway. The doctors didn't feel so guilty with us. If we died, it didn't really matter. And I didn't know they'd tried this whole experiment about fifty times before either. Fifty other guys: dead. They didn't list _that_ in the brochure. I was admitted and the first thing I have to do is sign a contract signing myself over to them as government property. I promised to never leave the project, to never try and escape during experimentation and I promised my life to service...So after weeks of torture...after weeks of _Killebrew's..._ torture..."

Wade's mouth went dry, mind flashing back to Killebrew's round sweat-speckled pale skin.

 _'Don't lose it.'_ He thought to himself, _'Ok, don't lose it...Where are you right now, Wade? Look around, you're in the Avengers tower. You're ok. You're not there. Not in the Workshop...Not in-...Just one look at you...and I know it's gonna be..a lovely daaaaaaaaay...a lovely daaa-...No, ok, come back, Wade. Breathe. Remember to breathe.'_

Wade thought back on the long nights in his windowless dark cell. Hallucinating a female skeleton with the voice of a dark angel, dressed in flowing purple robes, whispering to him...beckoning him to the other side...but he couldn't, no matter how hard he tried...he couldn't find a way to just... _die_.

But he didn't want to be back there...not back to that cell or that building or those people or those smells...

He shook his head, attempting to rid himself of the memory.

"...I served four years in the Weapon-X division of the Army's Special Forces as Killebrew's one real success...I was in too many missions to count for you, but...For nearly every branch and division of the Fed's, I've done just about everyone in the government a favor: but there's no IOU's here...it was just my job."

"So what happened?" Bruce gave a critical look.

"Out of nowhere, we became defunct. SHIELD was responsible for the most part I think, but Fury'll tell you different...but just like that...I'm left to...do what it is I wanted to do..."

Wade removed his hands from his pockets, "...Most of the guys I worked with killed themselves. They couldn't handle regular life afterwards...We had to go by strict codes and rules. And they never left us because...it's how we survived most days. The other guys just couldn't adjust. But...I choke that up to not having a reason to adjust...they didn't have a reason to go on. After X, _I_ figured out I had a _goal_ : to find Killebrew...and kill him..."

"Why?" Steve's voice had softened back to one of curiosity and intrigue, and when Wade finally dared to look back up to him again, his eyes showed genuine but cautious confusion, "...What I went through was painful beyond words...but I never dreamed of...I _thanked_ Howard after..."

Tony's eye caught Steve's and they both looked away.

Tony forgot, but only sometimes, that one of Steve's idols had also been his own. Even if the difference was that Howard idolized Steve back, and offered Tony nothing but criticism. He looked back down to his drink and took another swig.

"No offense, but what you and I went through are two entirely different things, Captain Rogers." Wade whispered, "...You were given a shit load of injections and sent on your merry way. Yeah, it was a bitch for _five minutes_ but you came out good at the end and everyone was there to shake your hand and say congratulations, you were their hero and-" Wade's voice shook and he stopped himself, taking a breath and swallowing.

He needed to recenter himself. Losing his cool would do the exact opposite of _help_ his situation.

"...When I came in...The super soldier project was failing pretty miserably. So they brought in their last resort. Doctor Killebrew...because this guy didn't have _moral_ limits. His only limits were the ones from nature and even those...he pushed'em. Some of the other guys in hospice called him Mengele... He thought him torturing on the _'inferior'_ was justified because it was for the _'greater good'_...Personally...I think he just liked to hear us scream. He was allowed to do whatever he wanted to, as long as he made valid efforts to get his _job_ done...and he did."

Wade thought back on the lab...the grey walls and fleeting shadows, the crying and weeping from the corners as nurses surrounded them to offer a wet rag on their foreheads and tell them: _just die already, would you?_

He pulled his arms in towards himself tightly and released a shaking breath, _'Keep it together, Wade ol' boy. Remember where you're at. Remember you're here...Avengers tower. Ok? Keep it together...'_

"...I was taken to a place he called... _The Workshop_..." The name made him shake again and he arched his back to try and stop it, he balled his fists in his pockets and shut his eyes, "..That's...where he worked on me."

He could see his face above in the sticky yellow light, face looking him over like a mundane spread sheet. " _Welcome to the Workshop, Mr. Wilson..."_

He opened them, exhaling, "...he gave me a hundred different injections and then cut me open like a fish...no anesthetic...Real guerrilla style."

"No anesthetic, but-?" Bruce begun.

"He said it'd interfere with reading the results...Whether that's the truth or not..." He paused for a second and shook his head with a broken laugh, "It's not...He'd do it over and over again...injections and then a new slice. Arms, legs...wherever..."

"Why did he...-?"

"To see if the healing factor had kicked in...because the truth was he didn't really know what he was doing...See, before, all the other times they'd make this _serum_ using _fake_ genes...they were made in a lab. But they couldn't _create_ this gene they wanted, So they got...samples... from real, living people. They modified it here and there, made the gene stronger, but other than that, they couldn't _control_ it...so every time they injected this strain into people, it'd kill 'em for whatever reason. But with the right host, the right guy, it would work. When it didn't _kill_ me, Killebrew knew this was _his_ fault...it was something _he_ was doing wrong. Ad Killebrew _hated_ being wrong."

Wade shook his head, "So he put me on something...an immunodepressant...but everytime... he'd say they weren't strong enough. So he put me on _stronger_ ones and _stronger_ ones until eventually, I had no defenses... My immune system was gone. But that's what he wanted...so he shot me up with syringes of DNA cocktails for days on end...and when it _still_ didn't work, it... made him mad... _real_ mad. He... started making bigger, _deeper_ cuts..." Wade swallowed, "He'd leave them open for days until they were infected and I had fevers of 105...I can't even remember how many times it happened...too many times... I couldn't fight off the infection with my immune system the way it was. My brain would start melting...I'd hallucinate...Evetually, he'd bring me back with an IV of antibiotics and electrolytes...and every time...I wanted to just give up and _die_... but he wouldn't let me...He thought if I got bad off enough, maybe it'd just...turn on. Like a light switch. And finally, this one time, he wheeled me into the Workshop half conscious, nearly dead from infection...and..."

Wade thought back, to the moment went his eyes met his, and he looked into pure evil. He saw the black pit of hate inside of him, he felt it in himself too. In that way, they were similar. They each had a burning hatred for the other.

But he wouldn't let this waste of human skin and flesh be the thing to do him in. No way. That's not how he'd go. He'd let the cancer kill him first.

"And that's when the healing factor worked...My wounds healed, the infection was gone within a day...I was shipped to X."

"Something had to of..." Bruce begun and watched Wade's head dip lower, "...what _triggered_ it?"

"I dunno..." Wade said quietly, "...I guess hate. I hated him so much...all I wanted to do was live because I didn't want _him_ to be the one that killed me..." Wade gave an ironic half-smile and shook his head, "What would have really pissed him off is if I'd died...but hey...I wasn't really thinking clearly."

"What happened to your girlfriend?" Natasha saw the flash of pain resurface in Wade's eyes.

"...I don't know." Wade shrugged, his smile gone, "She left because when I came back from X...I just..." He closed his eyes, turning away from Natasha.

He could see her feminine intuition working.

"Ya' know, I just...only ever wanted for her to be...happy. And what was best for her was life without... _me_. Especially after...after everything." Wade shook his head and took in a breath, leaning further back into the chair.

"Hey, but the show's not over kids..." He cocked half a smile and looked to Bruce and then back to Tony, "I lied about uh...why I came here too...why I volunteered to help you out. I mean..not exactly _lied_ but..mislead _a lot_...I'm not being paid by Fury. See,...I'm not technically on _any_ pay roll."

There was silence, but immediate interest was evident in each of their confused faces.

"But...why then?" Steve watched him carefully, leaning forwards.

"Well..." Wade swallowed, "...because life _sucks_." He gave a little laugh but it was one that was contained to only himself, quarantined inside of his aching heart, "...because _my_ fucking life sucks. Because Killebrew _fucked_ my life up even worse than it already was." Wade swallowed the gathering lump in his throat and gave an uneasy sigh, "Because...I realized that your friend had the same hobby as Killebrew: bio-engineering...and I needed him...I _need_ him...'cuz I couldn't find Killebrew...but I did have the _opportunity_ to find Dr. Banner..."

Wade looked to Tony , "I didn't want you guys thinking I was worthless...so I couldn't tell you about this from the start...but..." He looked to Bruce, "I've got a problem...My skin...it's..." Wade shook his head at a loss for words and decided the only correct thing to do would be to show him.

He rolled up his sleeve slowly, unraveling the gauze.

The skin, as mottled and zombie-like as before looked even worse under a staring audience. The newest section of diseased skin slid but stuck to his arm by threads.

He looked back to Bruce who's face had become grave, "...It's dying or something."

"...It could be a whole slew of infections..." Bruce begun his eyes looking from the paste of chewed up looking epithelium, shaking his head, "...but I'm not a medical doctor-"

"No, I know that.." Wade replied, "...I _can't_ have an infection, Dr. Banner."

Bruce opened his mouth and then, as though something had suddenly hit him he gave a curious look, his eyes dancing around Wade's face for a moment thinking over what he'd just said, "Then...then it'd have to be from the healing factor? But...the healing factor is meant to..."

Wade watched him carefully, the perplexities falling into place in Bruce's head becoming more and more visible as his face became more and more screwed up in confusion.

"I'm guessing you've seen a doctor?"

"No- Look, I don't need one. My healing factor...it's _gotta_ be the problem here. I can't get sick, I can't even get injured. My health is perfect. _And,"_ Wade pointed a finger, "...and since this has started, it's been working even better...it's been faster. Used to, a hand took like...two minutes to re-grow, now it's taking two _seconds._ "

"...Ok..." Bruce nodded, rubbing the back of his head.

Feeling the exhaustion inside of himself building, he raked a hand through his hair and looked to the others.

Steve nodded and looked to Tony who, without finishing his drink, set it down on the table and took a breath, "Wade...you didn't just lie to me..." Tony folded his arms, "...you lied to my _friends_ and our _team_. That's what we expect out of _Fury_ , or a _rat_. Not somebody who's going to _fight_ with us."

Wade gave a nod.

So this was it.

This was his council and their final decision.

First impressions were a bitch.

"...but, in the end you told the truth and I guess that's gotta count for something with me." Tony shrugged, "...Look, I guess I can get over it. But you listen to me right now."

Wade's eyes stared into Tony's.

"...You _haven't_ earned my _trust_ yet. If anything, you've lost any that I had."

Wade nodded once, "Understandable."

Steve leaned back, "Same goes for me..."

"Right." Clint said, eyes turning to Natasha who silently agreed with a poker-like nod.

Thor's frown was a phantom of what it was, but a feeling of betrayal was still obvious on his face.

"Swordbearer, I understand your choice to lie to us...on Asgard a warrior never shows pain when possible..."

"Um...thanks." Wade said with half a smile, "Cool-"

"But _do not_ cross me and my friends again." Thor said thunderously, "Or I will show you that these regenerative abilities you possess will not be able to put you back together when I am done."

Wade's eyes widened, swallowing, " _Very_ good intimidation skills. Damn." He looked to Bruce who sucked his lips inward and nodded.

"Ok. Let's go look at your arm."


End file.
